Hold My Heart
by nolarin
Summary: Sara and George are best friends who seem destined to be together. But, in the wake of Voldemort's rise, can they withstand the obstacles thrown at them?
1. The Sorting

The Great Hall was full of chatter. The students already at their tables sounded excited. Some of them were talking about what they did over their summer holiday, others talking about their plans for the year, and some fawning over friends they hadn't seen since June. The small children standing in between the two middle tables were shifting and glancing about anxiously, the surroundings very new to them.

"Students, please," Headmaster Albus Dumbledore called from the front of the hall; the chatter quieted until a silence blanketed the room.

"I would like to welcome you all to another wonderful year here at Hogwarts. We will begin with the sorting of our first years, since they do seem so excited to sit down," and with that, he drew forth a stool with an old hat atop it. "Minerva, if you would," he gestured toward an older woman with pursed lips, holding a book in her hand.

"Yes, let us begin," Professor McGonagall began, opening the book to the first page. "Aiderson, Mary," she called.

A small girl emerged from the throng of first years. She looked absolutely petrified as she approached the stool. Professor McGonagall lifted the hat so she could sit down, and then placed the hat on top of her head. She sat there wide-eyed for about ten seconds.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat yelled, causing the small girl to leap nearly a foot into the air.

Professor McGonagall removed the hat from the girl's head as a thunder of applause came from the Hufflepuff table. She ran from the stool and sat down.

Slowly, the students were sorted into their respective houses. One of them, Warrington, tripped on his way up, earning him a room full of laughter. He ended up in Slytherin. Another one, Cho Chang, actually began to cry as the hat was placed on her head; many of the students could not hide their snickering. She ended up in Ravenclaw.

"Roth, Sara" called Professor McGonagall.

From the remaining students, a cute girl with blond hair emerged and made her way toward the hat. She beamed up at Professor McGonagall, who returned it with a very rare smile of her own. The girl sat down on the stool, and McGonagall put the hat on top of her head.

"Hmmmmmmm, now this is quite interesting," Sara heard the hat speak, though she knew no one else could hear it.

"What's that?" she asked without actually speaking to it, just thinking the words.

"Well, my dear, " the hat began, "you are quite the conundrum. You are brilliant and have a sharp wit, which inclines me to put you in Ravenclaw. You are also very sweet and a hard worker, which makes me think you might be best in Hufflepuff. You have a strong and brave spirit, which makes me lean toward Gryffindor. But you are cunning and are a pureblood, which might make Slytherin a good fit. I recognize the name Roth, I believe your father was in Gryffindor?"

"Yes, indeed," Sara thought back.

"Yes, and I can see that your good nature and brave spirit far outweigh your other qualities… I believe-"

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat bellowed.

Thunderous applause erupted from the table to the far right of Sara. As Professor McGonagall lifted the hat from her head and gave her another quick smile, Sara made her way over towards the Gryffindor table. She had almost made it to the end where the other first years sat when she felt someone reach out and grab her arm. Well, two someones, actually.

"Oi," one of the boys who had grabbed her arm whispered.

"You should come sit here," the other boy on her arm added; he was nearly a mirror image of the other.

"It'll be so droll over with those newbies," the first one said with a wink.

"And I think we'd like to get to know you," the other said, also with a wink.

Before she really knew what had happened, Sara found herself seated between the two identical redheaded boys while the few remaining students were sorted. The final student was sorted and the stool and hat disappeared with a pop as Professor Dumbledore stood once again.

"Now, you all must be hungry. I believe that we can start the feast. Please, get to know one another and enjoy some delicious food," and with that, a plethora of food appeared on all of the tables and the students began to dig in.

The two redheads turned toward Sara at the same time.

"Sara Roth, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm the great Fred Weasley, second year," the one on the left announced.

"We're glad that you have been sorted into Gryffindor with us. I'm the much more humble George Weasley, also second year," the one on the right smiled; Sara noted that he had a small mole on his neck, his voice was just a touch deeper than Fred's voice, and he had a kinder smile than Fred.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you both," Sara giggled, turning back and forth between the two boys.

Both of the boys piled too much food onto their plates and began to eat. It was much like watching two pigs approach a newly stocked trough. They ate as if the food would disappear. George at least ate with his mouth closed. Sara laughed at the two boys as she put a normal amount of food on her plate and began to eat.

Throughout the meal, Sara learned much about her new friends. Fred and George came from a large family. Their oldest brother Bill was working as a Curse Breaker in Egypt. Charlie, who was two years younger than Bill, had graduated from Hogwarts the year before and was now working with dragons in Romania. Their brother Percy was in his fourth year; he had Fred and George's red hair, but seemed more standoffish. Their younger brother Ron was to come to Hogwarts next year, and their younger sister Ginny the year after. Their father worked for the Ministry of Magic in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Their mother stayed home with them.

"What about you? What's your story?" Fred asked with a mouthful of desert.

"Well," Sara began, "it's just me and my dad back home in Ireland. I never really… knew my mum. She died when I was a baby, and dad doesn't talk about her much. I'm pretty close to my godfather too, so I don't really feel like I'm missing out on parental love or anything. My dad also works for the Ministry. He's on the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad."

"That's pretty neat. Do you get to hear about all of the stupid things that kids do?" George asked with a laugh.

"Yeah, dad's told me stories," Sara said, rolling her eyes.

"You'll have to tell us if you hear anything interesting," Fred said, finally finishing his dinner.

Professor Dumbledore spent the rest of the evening going over the rules. Fred and George kept themselves quiet while he spoke. With a brief good night, the students were dismissed from the Great Hall and sent off to their respective dormitories. Fred and George stuck close to Sara, talking back and forth throughout the walk while the rest of the first years stuck to themselves.

"I'm afraid I'm not going to make any friends in my year. They've all sort of gotten into their own little cliques," Sara said nervously, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Love, what do you need those youngsters for?" Fred laughed.

"Yeah, you've got us. Much more mature and distinguished. We won't leave you friendless!" George exclaimed.

Both boys extended an arm for her, and Sara took it. She was glad to have friends. She didn't really need anyone else as long as she had these two boys to look out for her.


	2. Dementor

That was three years ago. Sara was a now best friend to the Weasley twins. She was something like a mother hen to the two boys. When their antics nearly got them in trouble, Sara was able to stop them just before calamity struck. She helped them study—as much as she could for two boys with the attention spans of flies—and was the feminine voice of reason when they needed advice.

Sara had changed since her first year. She had started to fill out nicely. She wasn't going through an awkward growing phase like the other girls; she had been short all her life, and that hadn't changed as she matured. She started having curves where the other girls were flat. Her hair grew longer, reaching past the bottom of her shoulder blades. She was brilliant—the top of her class without really trying. She was often deep in thought, staring off into space about one thing or another.

She had also become very close with Hermoine Granger, friend of Fred and George's little brother Ron. Hermione was just as smart as Sara and the two got along very well. Sara also befriended Ron and the famous Harry Potter. It was everyone's desire to become Harry's best friend, but he was drawn to Sara, perhaps because he saw her as a mother figure. Sara took care of anyone who needed her, which was often Fred, George, Hermione, Harry, and Ron. Her advice got them out of a lot of trouble during their few years at Hogwarts.

Sara's summer had been entirely uneventful, though her summers were really never eventful. She woke up on September 1 the morning she was to start her fourth year at Hogwarts very excited. She would get to see Fred and George for the first time since the last day of school. They had gone to Egypt with their family to visit their older brother Bill. She was jealous of their exploits, but was excited to hear all about it.

She leaped from her bed at 7:00 AM and immediately began her day. She showered, did her hair, put on makeup, and dressed in under 30 minutes. She trudged from her room and hauled her trunk down the stairs into the kitchen where her father was eating a piece of toast.

Sara loved her father. He was a very handsome man, considerably taller than her with dirty blond hair cut close to his head. He was well built, but very gentle. She always loved his hugs when she was little, and even now they made her feel better when she was down. He glanced up at her and smiled that half-smile that she was sure got him all the girls when he was in school. She noticed bags under his eyes, meaning he hadn't slept well the night before, if at all.

"Are yeh all packed up?" he asked, handing her a piece of toast, his thick Irish accent coming through.

"Yes, daddy," she answered, taking the bread from him. "You look tired. Were you up late?"

"Well, I haven't gone to bed yet, love," he answered, leaning against the counter. "That Potter kid blew his aunt up into a balloon and sent her floating 'round town. We had to catch her and deflate her."

Sara could not stop the laugh that violently escaped her lips. She doubled over, leaning her head against the counter. The image of Harry sending his inflated aunt into the skies of London was just too much.

"Yes, get yehr laughs out now. Fudge says he ain't being punished either. He can get away with anything once his parents are killed," her father ranted.

"Now daddy, that's not nice," Sara chided, immediately serious; she didn't like it when people talked about Harry that way. While she wasn't in love with him like half of the population at Hogwarts, she still felt sorry for him.

"Sorry, love," he said, reaching out and placing a kiss on her forehead. "Have fun at school this year, baby. And give Molly and Arthur my thanks."

"I will," Sara said, watching her father gather his things for work.

He bade Sara farewell, and with a pop he was gone.

Sara stood in her empty kitchen, suddenly feeling very alone. She quickly finished her toast, then made her way into the living room, where her trunk stood by the fireplace. The clock struck 8:00 as she grabbed her trunk in one hand and a fistful of Floo powder in the other. She stepped in, tossed the powder, and yelled, "The Leaky Cauldron," where Molly had told her they would be meeting.

Fireplaces passed in front of Sara's eyes until she felt herself being tossed forward. Just before she hit the floor, two pairs of arms reached out and grabbed her. She looked up to see Fred and George smiling down at her.

"Ever the graceful one-" George began.

"-aren't you?" Fred finished.

"Oh, shut it," Sara snapped, standing up and brushing the soot from her.

"Come on, mum's waiting," Fred walked on, ushering for them to follow.

George took Sara's trunk and wheeled it behind them as they walked.

"Thank you, Georgie," Sara cooed with her beautiful smile.

"Anytime, love," George winked.

The three entered the large dining room of The Leaky Cauldron where the entire Weasley family and Hermione were there waiting. She received a tight hug from Mrs. Weasley, while Ginny and Hermione gave much gentler hugs. Fred and George then led her to the table, where they sat down on either side of her. Ron sat across from them, excitedly showing passersby the picture of their family in Egypt.

As Fred began to eat breakfast, Sara felt George nudge her side. She looked over at him and saw a small bag in his hands. He reached over and put it in her lap. She looked from George to the bag in her lap, then back to him.

"For you," he whispered with a smile. "Open it."

With widened eyes, Sara reached into the bag and pulled out a thin gold bracelet with green marble across it. Sara looked back up at George.

"Oh, George, you didn't-" she started.

"Stop it," he interrupted her. "It's a gift. For you."

She looked back down at the bracelet, slowly sliding it onto her arm. She looked into his eyes once more.

"George, thank you. It's beautiful," she smiled at him, taking his breath away.

"Sure," was all he could choke out.

A slight commotion came from the stairs as Harry tripped down the last one, stumbling into the room. Hermione and Ron stopped arguing about their pets for a moment to greet him before returning to their squabble. Harry smiled at Sara and waved, sitting down across from her.

"Hello Harry," she cooed. "Suppose you had a busy night."

Harry's eyes grew wide.

"How did you…?" he asked, clearly baffled.

"My dad had to go round her up last night. He was not pleased this morning, but he'll get over it," she laughed.

Fred and George looked confused, but Harry laughed right along with her. Ron and Hermione came back to the table, turning Harry's attention toward them.

"Wha?" Fred asked.

"I'll tell ya later," Sara giggled.

After breakfast, they were all ushered off to King's Cross Station where they loaded the Hogwarts Express. Sara, Fred, and George slipped into the compartment occupied by their friend Lee Jordan while Harry, Ron, and Hermione continued down the train. Fred sat next to Lee, while Sara and George took the other side of the compartment. The train took off and Sara immediately began to stare off into the distance. George simply let her be and talked to Fred and Lee.

"It's so gloomy out there," Sara said, coming out of her trance.

"I know," George acknowledged, turning his attention toward her. "How was your summer?" he asked, trying to bring her back into the conversation.

"Oh, boring. Like it always is, I suppose," she shrugged. "I read a lot."

"Tell me about one of the books," he suggested, wrapping an arm around her.

She leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder, suddenly feeling a bit tired. She began to tell him about her summer reading collection and, unknowingly, dozed off. George noticed that she had stopped talking and looked down at her, smiling when he saw her sleeping soundly on his shoulder. He felt himself lean back and closed his eyes.

With a sudden jerk, Sara and George felt themselves violently awakened. Sara nearly fell off the seat, but George reached out and caught her.

"What's going on?" Sara asked. Fred and Lee weren't in the compartment anymore. Sara and George were alone. The lights in the train went dark, and George pulled Sara closer to him. A shiver passed through both of them as the rain on the windows turned to ice. Sara stiffened against George.

"Dementors?" she whispered softly, looking up at him with wide eyes, now filled with fear.

"It's okay," George said, pulling her even closer.

They sat there in silence for a while, feeling the bitter cold that accompanied Dementors, until the sickly feeling passed. The rain outside returned to normal and shortly after the train started moving.

"George… How could…" she started, looking out the window once more.

"I don't know," he confessed. "They're not supposed to be anywhere but Azkaban. This is so wrong. They're probably out looking for Black."

A figure stopped at their compartment, peering in the window. The door opened, revealing a very haggard looking middle-aged man.

"Uncle Remus!" Sara exclaimed, utterly surprised to see him. She leaped from her seat and ran toward him, wrapping her arms around him.

"Glad to see you're alright. I just wanted to check up on you," he said, returning the hug.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she asked, pulling away from him.

"I'm the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," he explained with a small, tired smile.

"Really?" she cried. "So then I'll be seeing more of you lately."

"That you will. If you'll excuse me, I must be going. Just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Bye," she called as he exited the compartment, closing the door behind him.

"_Uncle_ Remus?" she heard George ask behind her.

"He's my godfather. He and my father were best friends when they went to Hogwarts. I've always called him uncle," Sara explained, sitting back down next to George.

When they arrived back at the school, the dementors were the talk of the students. When Fred, Sara, and George sat down at the Gryffindor table, they heard Harry, Ron, and Hermione talking feverishly across from them. Dumbledore's commanding presence silenced the room. The first years were sorted quickly, and Dumbledore made a few announcements. He introduced Professor Lupin as the new DADA teacher. He looked around the crowd of students, stopping at Sara and giving her a small wink. Dumbledore also announced that Hagrid would be taking over as Care of Magical Creatures professor. He explained that the presence of the dementors was for the safety of the students, and that they were under strict orders not to bother the students, but advised them not to get in the dementors' ways. On that light note, the food appeared on the table and the feast began.

"Wha' classes have you got this year?" Fred asked Sara, his mouth full of food.

"Very attractive," Sara remarked. "Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, History of Magic, Astronomy, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and Arithmancy," she said as she ticked each one off on her fingers.

"Sometimes, I just don't understand you," George laughed.

"Maybe you don't need to understand," she said sternly, looking down at her plate.

"You're lucky you never have to try," Fred said, taking a drink of his pumpkin juice.

"Um, I try. If you gave even a little bit of the effort I did, Fred Weasley…" Sara scolded, shaking her fork at him.

"He's just yankin' you. We know you study," George said, smiling at her.

"Study," Fred scoffed, shoveling more food into his mouth.

"Looking after you two is enough work for me, thanks," Sara retorted, flicking a carrot at Fred.


	3. Healing

Classes started the next day, and Sara finished her day with Herbology. She trudged down to the greenhouses with one of her roommates, Katie Bell. Katie was one of the only friends Sara had in her own year, and the two got along fairly well. They chatted about their summers and what classes they were taking. They even sat next to one another in class.

"Alright class, quiet down, quiet down," Professor Sprout instructed, waddling to the front of the class. "I hope your summers were enjoyable, but we're going to jump right back into class, if you don't mind." She glared at two chatting Slytherins before continuing on. "Today we'll be discussing the Amourty plant. Can anyone tell me about the Amourty plant?"

She looked expectantly out at the class and saw a sea of blank faces. Sara sighed softly and raised her hand. Professor Sprout gestured toward her gratefully.

"Amourty are small pink flowers that act as a love drug. They're incredibly potent, but their effects only last 24 hours," she explained. "They come from the Vardine plant, which has large thorns meant to protect the flowers."

"Very good, Ms. Roth. 5 points for Gryffindor. Now, if you'll all gather round the front, I've got a few Vardine plants. You can all examine them," Professor Sprout gestured for them all to come up.

The class trudged up to a table near the front. Long green vines sat atop the table, spiraling over the sides and landing in piles on the floor. Katie and Sara stood at the front, along with a few other Hufflepuffs and the two chatting Slytherins.

"Now, if you'll notice, the Vardine plant…" Professor Sprout began to drone, but Sara was distracted by the conversation behind her.

"That party at his mansion was absolutely amazing," Slytherin number one whispered.

"I'm so jealous. We were on holiday. What was it like?" number two prodded.

"Well, enormous. And there're so many house elves there, it's insane. He showed us his room too," number one practically squealed.

"Oh my god, I don't even care if he's a year younger, he's already the cutest guy at Hogwarts," number two sighed.

"What I wouldn't give to be Mrs. Malfoy," number one cooed.

Katie and Sara locked eyes and both chuckled. The Slytherins looked at them darkly.

"Something funny, Bell?" number two hissed.

"Just you obsessing over a cretin," she replied, rolling her eyes.

They made noises of outrage and began to whisper to one another. Suddenly, Katie was shoved violently toward the table, landing right on top of the Vardine plant. She cried out as the thorns impaled her hands.

"What happened, Ms. Bell?" Professor Sprout explained.

Sara glared darkly at the Slytherins before going to help her friend. Professor Sprout administered orders of detention before waddling off to get her wand. Sara took Katie's hands into her own and lifted up the sleeves of her robe to reveal her bloody arms. Katie was sobbing.

"Relax, okay?" Sara ordered gently as she closed her eyes.

Sara moved her hands over Katie's arms. Katie suddenly felt the pain leaving her and being replaced by a cool, soothing energy. The cuts on her arms were healing over. When Sara opened her eyes again, Katie felt as if nothing had happened. Katie looked at Sara with wide, confused eyes.

"Did you heal me?" Katie asked bewildered.

"Yeah," Sara replied tentatively.

"Ms. Roth," Professor Sprout muttered, suddenly standing in front of them.

"Y-yes, professor?" she asked, now a bit concerned.

Professor Sprout turned and waddled away once more. She grabbed a piece of parchment and scrawled a messy note on it before folding it up and handing it to Sara.

"Please take this to Madam Pomfrey. I trust Ms. Bell is healed enough to continue on with the lesson," she said shortly, returning to the front.

Sara and Katie shared a confused look as Sara returned to her seat and grabbed her bag. She heard Professor Sprout remind the Slytherins of their detentions just before the greenhouse door closed behind her. As she ascended the stairs back to the castle, she resisted the temptation to open the note and read it. She entered the hospital wing and found Madam Pomfrey seated behind her desk. She looked up from the book she was reading and dropped it quickly into her lap.

"What can I do for you, dear?" she asked, trying to discretely return the book into one of the drawers.

"Professor Sprout wanted me to give you this," Sara said, handing her the note.

Madame Pomfrey scanned the note with squinted eyes, trying to make out the nearly illegible writing. When she looked back up at Sara, she had a single eyebrow raised.

"My dear, you are a healer?" she asked, almost incredulously.

"Well, I… I suppose," Sara muttered, fiddling with the string of her robe.

"How long have you possessed this ability?" she asked, folding her hands on the desk

"Um, well, when I was younger, I would skin my knees and elbows and whatnot when I played with other kids. I learned that if I concentrated on the injury long enough, I could heal it. I tried it on my dad and my godfather when they would get hurt, and I healed them too. Nothing major, of course. And then, I healed Katie today when she fell in the Vardine plant."

"I see. Very intriguing. You know most people have to learn how to heal, and it often takes many years to learn," Madame Pomfrey explained.

Their conversation was cut short as the doors flew open. Hagrid stumbled in, carrying a moaning Draco in his arms. He set the blond boy down on the bed and looked nervously at the two stunned females.

"We had an accident," Hagrid explained shakily. "He… He got cut."

"Why don't you show me what you can do, Ms. Roth," Madame Pomfrey suggested.

Sara looked at her with wide eyes before making her way slowly over to Draco. She had never been very fond of the boy, considering how rude he was to her friends. Still, he was bleeding, and she couldn't just leave him. She ignored his whimpering and ripped the bloody sleeve from his robe. She closed her eyes and held her hand over the large gash up his arm.

Draco suddenly felt the pain ebbing away, only to be replaced by a cool sensation. He looked up and saw Sara standing over him with her eyes closed, her hand resting over his bloody arm. He could see the wound closing up before his eyes. When she opened her eyes and wiped the blood away with a damp cloth, all that remained was a long scar surrounded by a purple bruise.

"Might want to bandage it up so it doesn't burst open," she muttered to Madame Pomfrey, completely ignoring him now.

"Sara, that's incredible," Pomfrey marveled, looking over Draco's arm. "Tell me, dear, would you be willing to help me out during the Quidditch matches? Just with minor injuries, we'd set something up down on the pitch so you could still watch the matches."

"Of course," Sara nodded, picking up her bag. "I've got to get going though."

"Yes, of course, dear. I'll send an owl your way," Pomfrey said hurriedly, moving to collect some bandages.

Sara walked back to the Gryffindor common room in a bit of a daze. She was not used to healing more than one person, and Draco's injury had actually been a bit worse than she thought it would be. She stumbled through the portrait hole and spotted George leaning back on the couch with his feet kicked up on the table. She set her bag on the table, dropped onto the couch next to him, and leaned back, rolling her head onto his shoulder. Her eyes drifted closed and she was vaguely aware of his arm draping over her shoulder and pulling her against his chest before she fell asleep.

"Oi, wake up!"

George cracked an eye open and found his twin's face right in front of his own. He groaned and sunk deeper into the couch. When he realized that there was another body pressed against him, he opened both eyes. Sara was snuggled against him fast asleep. He had his arm wrapped around her, and one of her fists was curled against his robes. He smiled down at her.

"When did she get here?" he asked Fred quietly.

"Maybe an hour or two ago," he replied, standing upright and watching her sleep as well. "Lee and I were convincing the girls to do our Potions essays for us. You missed out."

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes.

"You should do your own damn work, Fred," Sara grumbled suddenly.

The boys both looked down and saw that she hadn't opened her eyes, but her eyebrows had furrowed in frustration. Fred laughed, and George smiled.

"If you're not awake to reprimand me, how do you expect me to behave?" he asked, jumping over George's legs and plopping down on the couch next to her.

"You know I'll always find out. That alone should be enough, especially when I send an owl to your mother," she taunted, snuggling closer to George.

"You wouldn't dare," he chuckled as he leaned over her and wrapped his arms around her.

"You're both so warm," she sighed contentedly.

"Wake up, I'm hungry," Fred demanded.

"And you need me there to assist you?" she retorted, cracking an eye open to look at the lanky redhead on top of her.

"Oh, come on, you can't be that tired," he rolled his eyes.

Angelina called his name, and immediately Fred jumped off of Sara and headed toward her voice. George laughed as his twin retreated, and Sara shook her head.

"How long have I been asleep?" Sara asked, sitting up and stretching.

"Fred said about an hour or two," George yawned.

"Geeze," she laughed.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked as he stood up, extending a hand to her.

"Yeah, I had to heal a couple times today, and I was a bit tired on top of that. Apparently I'm going to be helping Pomfrey heal during Quidditch matches though," she said, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her into a standing position.

"I knew we'd suck you in, one way or another," he winked.

"At least I'm not flying," she noted as they headed toward the portrait hole, playfully ignoring Fred's cries of protest from across the room.

The next day was much easier for Sara. She was done with her classes by lunch. She dropped her books off in her dormitory before heading down to the Great Hall to join the twins for lunch. She spotted the two redheads stuffing their faces. She rolled her eyes and dropped down across the table from them.

"I wish I didn't have classes after lunch," Fred grumbled, his mouth full of food.

"Yes, but then you'd whine about having too many classes in the morning," she retorted. "What've you got left?"

"Just Charms," George replied.

"I don't really think you've got much to complain about then," she chided Fred, tossing a chocolate at him.

When they finished their lunch, the dishes disappeared and Fred and George leaned back and groaned.

"What'll you be doing with the rest of your afternoon?" George asked.

"Professor Lupin asked me to come in and help with a demonstration for the third years," she replied, standing up.

"I thought he was Uncle Remus?" George winked.

"Well, not for now, I guess," she chuckled.

The two boys escorted her to the staffroom, where Lupin had instructed her their first lesson would be taking place. She bade them farewell before cracking open the door and peeking inside.

"Ah, our guest of honor," Lupin announced cheerfully.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologized, entering the room with a large smile.

"For those of you not aware, this is fourth year Sara Roth. She'll be helping me with our little operation today. Now then," he gestured toward an old wardrobe near the back of the room, which suddenly wobbled violently. "Nothing to worry about. There's a boggart in there. So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what _is_ a boggart?"

"It's a shape-shifter," Hermione answered. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form," Lupin explained. "He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears. That means we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

"Er, because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?" Harry tried, ignoring Hermione's hand in the air.

"Precisely. It's best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. After me please… _Riddikulus._" The class repeated after him, and he seemed pleased as he turned to Sara. "Are you ready to show us your biggest fear?" he asked.

"Why not," she retorted with a smile.

"When I open the wardrobe, it will first seek out Sara and identify her fear. She will imagine an amusing way to counter her fear, and if she is successful the boggart will seek another person's fear to prey on. Form a line behind her, and be prepared to combat your fears with laughter. Here we go,"

He gave Sara a haggard smile before flicking his wand and opening the wardrobe. The door burst open and an ominous silence fell over the room. Dean opened his mouth to ask what her fear was and found no words escaping from his mouth. Sara winced a bit at the silence, then laughed. She raised her wand and mouthed "_Riddikulus_" wordlessly. A large circus sprang to life, complete with clowns, performers, and a marching band that began to play rather loudly. The class erupted in laughter, and Sara moved out of the way to allow Neville to step up to the boggart. She stood next to Lupin and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Fear of… Being deaf?" he queried, keeping his eyes on Neville.

"Silence," Sara corrected.

"Interesting," he murmured.

The boggart shifted into a frighteningly accurate Professor Snape and began to bear down on Neville. When Neville shouted "_Riddikulus_," Snape was suddenly wearing women's clothes—a long lace dress, a large hat, and a red purse. The class laughed, and Neville moved back to allow the next student. One after another, the students faced their fears. When Ron sent his massive spider spiraling toward Harry, Lupin sprang forward. The boggart rounded on him and turned into what Sara recognized to be a full moon. He turned it into a cockroach with a flick of his wand.

"Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" Lupin ordered.

Snape appeared dressed in the horrendous clothes once more before disappearing into wisps of smoke. Lupin awarded points to the Gryffindors who took on the boggart, as well as Hermione and Harry for answering his questions. He assigned them a bit of homework before excusing them for the day. They filed out slowly until only Lupin and Sara remained in the room. Sara leaned against the table, staring curiously at her godfather.

"You alright?" she asked, very concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just tired," he sighed, attempting to smile.

"That's your greatest fear then," she remarked, considering the full moon he'd conjured. "What part of it scares you?"

"Losing control, letting it become who I am, never being able to live a normal life," he explained.

"I don't think you have too much to be afraid of," she advised, smiling warmly at him.

"Oi, Sara!" a voice at the door called.

They looked over to see Fred and George peeking inside. Sara laughed and rolled her eyes.

"You're being collected," Lupin chuckled.

She winked at her godfather, shouldered her bag, and headed off toward the two boys. They each took one of her arms and led her back to the common room.

"What did you learn in class today?" George asked cheerily.

"I think I learned that I really do like your mindless chatter," she smirked up at the twins.

"Good, 'cause I've got loads to tell you," Fred said with a wink.

"And none of it's important," George added.

Sara sighed happily, glad she never had to be surrounded by silence when she was with her best friends.


	4. Hogsmeade

The months passed quickly. In that time, Gryffindor had received a new portrait for their common room after the Fat Lady was supposedly attacked by Sirius Black. Sara had a hard time believing Black would do that; her father had spent a bulk of her childhood defending him to those who spoke ill of him—after all, they'd been friends for most of their lives. Their new portrait, Sir Cadogan, was absolutely insane, but Sara loved him. She'd had full conversations with the man about completely trivial matters even after he'd opened the portrait for her. Fred and George had also taken a liking to him as well, often stopping to taunt him on their way out.

Lupin was also suffering from his "transformations" once a month. Sara knew he went to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade, and he would return looking much worse for wear. She often tried to mother him into taking care of himself when she couldn't do so, something he really appreciated despite his age.

There had been a few Hogsmeade trips that the twins had dragged Sara on, and she always enjoyed herself even if she put up a fight. She had also helped out at her first Quidditch match, during which Harry managed to fall prey to the dementors, fall off his broom, and break it. Hufflepuff won, though their captain Cedric had been very gracious about it.

Before they knew it, the last week of the term dawned on them, and with it another trip to Hogsmeade. Sara was the last girl to wake up, as most had gotten up to get ready for their trip. She sat up and stretched before disappearing into the bathroom. She dressed in multiple layers and added the hat Fred had given her for Christmas last year before trudging down the stairs and dropping onto the couch to wait for Fred and George. She didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until a body dropped onto the couch next to her. She opened one eyes and encountered the curious face of George.

"Wake up, sleepy head," George taunted. "We're going to Hogsmeade!"

"No," she said shortly, closing her eyes once more.

"Yes," he retorted, sneakily moving his hand toward her.

She screamed when she felt him begin to tickle her, and she tried to writhe away from him. He took the opportunity to pull her off of the couch and onto the floor where they both landed with a loud _thud_.

"Just let me die!" Sara moaned.

"Not today, love. We're going. I'll do it again," he threatened, reaching for her once more.

"NO!" she screamed, rolling away from him.

"Come on, Fred's waiting downstairs," George laughed.

"I forgot my gloves upstairs. I'll go get them and meet you in the courtyard," she yawned.

"You're not going back to sleep?" he asked, suspicious.

"I wouldn't dare."

"We'll be waiting," he called as she disappeared up the spiral staircase.

A short trip to her room and Sara returned to the common room, wool mittens in hand, and she headed out the portrait hole.

"Going out on the town?" Sir Cadogan asked as the portrait swung shut behind her.

"Quite right, sir," she replied with a salute before taking off.

She discovered a snowman out on the yard, but no Fred and George. The snow was falling lightly, and she watched her breath escape in large clouds from her mouth. She put her hands on her hips defiantly and sighed heavily.

"I'd love to go back to bed!" she called loudly.

She was suddenly lifted into the air by two pairs of arms, causing her to scream.

"Pipe down, you!" Fred yelled.

They lowered her to the ground and doubled over in laughter. She glared at them, but found it difficult to be angry with them. They hooked their arms through hers and led her down to Hogsmeade.

"We've done our good deed for the day. We can feel free to terrorize now," Fred commented.

"And what good deed do you claim to have done?" Sara asked, raising an eyebrow at Fred.

"We've given Harry a way to go down to Hogsmeade-" Fred started.

"-so that he doesn't have to sit alone at the castle again," George finished.

"Was it… The map?" she asked, taking a stab in the dark.

"You're just not one for surprises, are you?" Fred scowled.

"You just need to improve your surprising skills," Sara retorted.

"It wasn't really a big deal," George laughed.

"Ever the pacifist," Sara giggled, looking up at George with her lovely smile.

They wandered into town amongst the crowds of students, drifting past windows and occasionally wandering into shops to browse. The twins dragged Sara into Zonko's so they could stock up on supplies. They collected the little trinkets from the shop not only to pull pranks, but also so they could take them apart and see how they worked. They had even designed a few products of their own, all of which Sara had refused to try after they turned her tongue green.

She, in turn, pulled them after her into Dominic Maestro's, the local music shop. She admired the instruments in the windows, some of them typical muggle instruments and some strange wizard instruments.

Eventually they made their way to Honeydukes, seeking out some warmth after being kicked out of the Three Broomsticks. It was packed with customers, forcing Sara right in between the two boys. She looked apologetically up at George, who only laughed nervously. She didn't notice his face flush slightly as she looked away.

"Hey, Fred!" they heard from across the shop.

Angeline Johnson was waving to them from near the front counter. Fred looked back at his twin and smirked deviously. George raised an eyebrow, and Fred winked at him. This exchange went unnoticed by Sara, who was more than a head shorter than the two boys.

"Well kids, I'm off to flex my charms on the lovely Angelina. I hope you two can entertain yourselves. I'll meet you back at the school for dinner," he said before taking off and disappearing in the crowd.

George and Sara stared after the redhead, who they saw saunter up to Angelina before the crowd blocked their vision. Sara looked up at George again and shrugged. Her cheeks were rosy from the drastic temperature change. Her hair that wasn't trapped under the hat was damp from the snow and was starting to curl a bit. George tried to ignore how close they were as he looked down at her and laughed again. It had been a long time since they'd been together without Fred, and he hadn't had these feelings then.

"What do you want to do now?" Sara asked, pushing her hair out of her face.

"I dunno, whatever you want to do," he muttered with a shrug.

"We could go to Madam Puddifoot's, it might be a little less crowded," she suggested.

"Y-yeah, sure," he mumbled, leading her out of Honeydukes.

Madam Puddifoot's was gaudily decorated as always, but it was considerably less crowded than the other shops. They got their tea and sat down at one of the tables near the back. Sara noticed many pairs of eyes follow them as they walked, but she assumed it was because most people weren't used to seeing one Weasley twin away from the other. They sipped at their tea quietly, not really talking. George noticed that couples occupied all of the tables around them, holding hands and staring into one another's eyes. He wondered if Sara noticed it too.

"Are you excited to go home?" she asked, returning him from his daze.

"Yeah, I suppose. Are you excited to see your dad?" he replied.

"I am, I hope he can get a little time off. I might be stopping by the Burrow on Christmas Day for a little bit. We'll see, I suppose," she mused.

"That'd be fun," he remarked, returning to his tea.

Another awkward silence followed, filled only by the occasional giggles from the surrounding tables. They finished their tea and set out once more, heading back toward the castle. George was a bit less awkward now that they weren't surrounded by cooing lovers and was able to joke around with her again. Still, he noticed things about her that he hadn't ever before—the way she walked, managing to keep up with his long strides despite her shorter legs; her bouncing steps that made some favorable body parts bounce as well; and the way she smiled up at him so sweetly. No matter how hard he tried to dispel the thoughts, George couldn't help but wonder if he was starting to think of Sara as a little more than a friend.


	5. Cedric

George had thought about Sara a lot during the holiday break. Her father managed to take some time off and whisked her away on a vacation, so she hadn't been able to come to the Burrow at all. When they returned to school, she told them all about her trip to Mexico and how warm it was. She was a bit tanner than when she left; that along with her blond hair made her look almost exotic. George was quick to take note of that.

The school year resumed and Sara started pressuring the twins about their O.W.L.s. They brushed her off as often as possible, though to appease her they had started "practicing" for Charms. She helped out at the Quidditch matches, but was never confronted with anything more than a few cuts and bruises. The most serious injury occurred during the Slytherin/Hufflepuff match during mid-March. One of the Slytherin beaters had launched a bludger at the Hufflepuff seeker just before he caught the Snitch. The seeker sailed toward the earth and landed on his arm. He was ushered off the field and Sara followed him to the makeshift hospital wing set up just outside the pitch. He was groaning as he held his arm, completely unaware of Sara's presence until she touched his arm.

"Poor thing," she murmured, examining the wound.

His bone had snapped and a bit was jutting out of his skin. She cringed at the injury, but immediately set to healing it. She closed her eyes and allowed her healing energy to flow into his arm. His groaning subsided, and he felt the pain dissipate from his arm to be replaced by a cool sensation. He looked up at the young woman healing his arm curiously. He'd never really noticed her before, but she was most definitely a student. She was incredibly pretty. When she opened her eyes, he noticed how green they were and was a bit taken aback. She smiled warmly at him.

"How does it feel?" she asked, patting his arm gently.

"It's great, thank you," he replied, remembering to breathe.

"I don't think you should go back out there, it might-" she started, but was cut off by a roar of cheers.

"Guess it doesn't really matter anymore," he laughed bitterly. "Derrick is a dirty cheat."

"You expect anything more from the Slytherin snakes?" she asked with a slight chuckle as she retrieved some bandages.

"I suppose not. And what is the name of my lovely savior?" he queried as she returned to her seat next to him.

"Sara Roth. I'm in Gryffindor," she said as she began to wrap the bandages around his arm.

"I'm Cedric Diggory. It's nice to meet you," he smiled at her.

She laughed softly, and he raised an eyebrow. She looked up with the smile still on her face and eyed him almost knowingly.

"Diggory, eh? I guess we have met before, then. My father works at the ministry. He once brought me to one of the holiday parties and made me go play with the other children. I specifically remember a Cedric Diggory telling me that there were no girls allowed in their club," she smirked, laughing at the memory.

"Oh my god," he shook his head, almost embarrassed. "That was such a long time ago. I'm sorry."

She laughed again, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. He couldn't help but laugh along with her.

"What year are you, by the way?" he asked as she tied up the bandage.

"Fourth," she replied.

"No way," he muttered disbelievingly.

"Are you calling me a liar, Mr. Diggory?" she asked with mock surprise.

"No, you just seem… Older, I guess," he shrugged.

"I think I hear your teammates coming. Are you sure your arm's alright?" she patted the bandaged limb.

"It's great, thank you so much," he said gratefully. "You'll have to let me make it up to you sometime for kicking you out of our club."

She smiled once more at the Hufflepuff before his teammates rushed in and moved around him. He appeased their fears and apologized for making them lose the match, distracted only long enough to watch Sara leave the tent before he returned his attention to his friends. He'd have to remember to make it up to her somehow.


	6. Quidditch

"Waaaaaaaaaake uuuuuuuuuuuup!"

George groaned and attempted to pull the blanket over his head, but was unable to move it. He cracked open his eyes and recognized a familiar face kneeling over him—a face he hadn't seen since term ended.

"Sara, just let me die," he grumbled, rolling onto his side.

"Not today, Georgie. Maybe tomorrow, after we've seen Ireland pummel Bulgaria, but not today. You have to wake up!" she exclaimed, shaking him.

"George, turn her off," Fred moaned from his bed.

Sara climbed off of George and flopped onto the other twin. He yelled and rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath him as he pretended to go back to sleep.

"Fred Gideon Weasley, you get off of me this instant! Your father sent me up here with orders not to come down without you two!" she cried, pushing against the boy.

"Guess you're never going downstairs then," he smirked.

With one hard shove, she managed to roll him off of her and send him falling to the floor with a loud "thud." The noise made George sit bolt upright in his own bed, and Sara flew to him and ripped the blanket away from him. He scowled at her, but she only closed her eyes and smiled in response. He noticed that she'd changed even more since he'd seen her at the end of the last school year. Her hair was longer, tumbling even further over her shoulders. She'd started to fill out even more. Her button-up shirt wouldn't close over her chest, so she had to leave the top unbuttoned. She was still as short as ever though, and her smile still made him feel warm inside.

"Now get up, you lugs, before I have to upturn the beds," she demanded, placing her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, yeah," Fred grumbled as he stood from the floor and padded out the door toward the bathroom down the hall.

George stepped out of the bed and stretched his arms over his head, yawning loudly. He trudged to his closet and stared at his clothes, not really processing what he was looking at. Sara popped under his arm and pulled a sweater from one of the hangers.

"I like this one," she said, handing it to him before exiting the room to give him some privacy.

George looked down at the sweater in his hands. He hardly ever wore this one, but now that he knew she liked it, he would be doing so more often. He pulled his pajamas off and dressed quickly before invading on Fred in the bathroom.

Sara leaned against the wall just down the hall from their room, drumming her fingers against it as she waited. When the twins emerged fully dressed and with bags slung over their shoulders, she smiled cheerily, ushering them down the stairs. They waited about 10 minutes until Ron and Harry finally stumbled down the steps, still rubbing their eyes.

"Where's Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" George asked with a great yawn.

"Well, they're Apparating, aren't they? So they can have a bit of a lie-in," Mrs. Weasley replied.

"So they're still in bed? Why can't we Apparate too?" Fred grumbled as he began shoveling porridge into his mouth.

Mrs. Weasley replied something that Sara didn't hear. She was thoroughly distracted by the slight rustle of plastic she'd heard coming from George's pocket when he reached for a piece of toast. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he looked over at her with widened eyes. He almost imperceptibly shook his head and flashed his eyes toward his mother. Sara rolled her eyes and pulled a bowl of porridge toward her.

"Charlie had to take the test twice," she heard Fred say. "He failed the first time, Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?"

"Yes, well, he passed the second time," Mrs. Weasley corrected.

"Percy only passed two weeks ago. He's been Apparating downstairs every morning, just to prove he can," George sneered.

Hermione and Ginny tottered downstairs and sat down at the table. Mr. Weasley was now telling them that they had a short walk ahead of them when George leaned over the table to grab a bowl of porridge. The lump in his pocket did not go unnoticed by the eagle eye of one.

"GEORGE!" Mrs. Weasley shouted.

"What?" he asked innocently, dropping back down in his seat to try and hide the lump, but the damage was done.

"What is that in your pocket?"

"Nothing!" he exclaimed.

"Don't you lie to me!" she snarled. She seized her wand, pointed it at his pocket and shouted, _"Accio!"_

About six brightly colored items zoomed into her waiting hand. A look of fury crossed her face, while Fred and George suddenly appeared to be cowering.

"We told you to destroy them!" Mrs. Weasley shouted as she brandished the objects at the twins (which made Sara feel very in the middle of the fight, as she was seated between Fred and George). "We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!"

Fred and George began to pull the items out of their pockets and lay them down on the table, and then continued pulling them from their persons. Jacket pockets, rolled up cuffs of jeans, the lining of their jackets; sweets were magically summoned from all of these places and more by Mrs. Weasley.

"We spent six months developing those!" Fred said angrily.

"Oh, a fine way to spend six months! No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!" Mrs. Weasley hollered.

The twins stormed from the table, leaving a bewildered looking Sara behind.

"What are those?" she whispered to Harry as she watched Mrs. Weasley toss them all into the garbage.

"Ton-Tongue Toffees," he whispered back. "They got my cousin to eat one yesterday, caused quite a stir."

Slowly, everyone departed from the kitchen. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny ran back upstairs to collect their things. The twins were already sulking outside. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left the kitchen and went into the living room. Sara could hear their murmuring as she stood up, taking her porridge bowl to the sink. She turned to find herself face to face with the garbage can. The toffees were piled inside, untainted by rubbish. Sara couldn't help it. She reached into the can and pulled out a few handfuls of toffee and stuffed them into her bag before returning to the living room.

"All set, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, wringing her hands.

"Yes ma'am," she replied with a smile.

Mrs. Weasley moved forward to wrap Sara in a warm hug. She was perhaps the closest thing Sara had ever known to a mother, and she always enjoyed one of Mrs. Weasley's hugs.

"Those boys behave better for you than they do for their own mother, just keep an eye on them," she pleaded in Sara's ear before pulling away.

A slight feeling of shame accompanied the weight to the toffees in her knapsack at Mrs. Weasley's words. Still, she'd never let the twins do any danger with them. The rest of the Weasleys and Hermione came back downstairs and Mrs. Weasley turned to give them each a hug. Sara slipped outside and found the twins waiting near the gate, not looking at the house.

"You really shouldn't leave without saying goodbye. One day you might not be able to," she said as she wandered out the gate and meandered slowly down the path that led away from the house.

Fred and George almost immediately felt an immense sense of guilt. Sara's mother had died when she was only a year old, and they sometimes had to step back and consider things from her point of view. It was with this in mind that they returned back to the house and allowed Mrs. Weasley to give them each a kiss and a short hug. Sara watched from the path, smiling warmly. They returned to her side, feeling less resentful.

"Good. Maybe now I'll let you have some of the toffees in my pack later," she smirked.

"Oh, Sara," Fred exclaimed, throwing an arm over her shoulder. "We can always count on you."

They set off in the dim morning light, walking into the patch of wilderness just off of the Weasley's property. They trekked quietly for a while, enjoying the sunrise and the sounds of nature that surrounded them. Sara eventually slowed down to talk to Hermione and Ginny, who were slightly more talkative than the twins. They were wandering through a small patch of forest chatting quietly when they noticed someone standing just a bit ahead of them.

"Arthur!" the figure called out jovially. "It's about time son!"

"Sorry, Amos. Some of us had a bit of a sleepy start," he replied, glancing back at Harry and Ron. "This," he gestured toward the smiling man, "is Amos Diggory, everyone. Works with me, at the Ministry."

They stopped in front of him and a second figure dropped from the trees. Sara smiled as she recognized Cedric Diggory, the boy she'd healed after a nasty Quidditch match the year before. He shook Mr. Weasley's hand before taking notice of Sara.

"This way, everyone!" Mr. Weasley called, leading them onward.

Cedric hung back and walked next to Sara, smiling warmly down at her.

"Hey there, stranger," he said.

"Sorry, this is a girls-only club. You can't walk with us," she joked, gesturing toward Hermione and Ginny—both of whom were blushing under Cedric's gaze.

"Very funny," he laughed, shaking his head. "I still need to make that up to you somehow."

"Cedric, we were kids. You don't have to make anything-"

"No, no, I insist," he cut her off.

She rolled her eyes and laughed at the charming boy. Hermione and Ginny fell back and let the two of them walk next to one another. They chatted about their summers, what classes they were taking this coming school year, and which team they thought would win the Quidditch World Cup this year. She playfully punched his arm when he taunted her about being from Ireland, and he laughed when she imitated Krum. All the while, George kept glancing back at them, trying to be discrete. When he caught Fred's eye, he returned his gaze forward, his face turning pink. Fred just chuckled at him.

"It's just over there, Arthur!" Mr. Diggory called from behind them as they exited the wooded area and trekked up a large hill.

"Come now, we don't want to be late," Mr. Weasley urged them on toward the top.

The sun was just above the horizon and revealed an old boot just at the top of the hill. Sara laughed as they gathered around, recognizing it as a portkey.

"Why are they all standing around that manky old boot?" she heard Harry ask behind her as she kneeled down next to it.

"That isn't just any manky old boot, mate," George corrected him.

"It's a portkey!" Fred finished.

George kneeled down next to Sara and glanced over at her. Though Cedric was right next to her, she was looking at him and smiling. He couldn't help but smile back, despite being a bit jealous earlier. They reached for the boot at the same time and his hand brushed against hers. She didn't pay any mind to it, but he certainly did.

"Time to go. Ready? On the count of three. One… Two…" Mr. Diggory counted down.

"Harry!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed.

Harry managed to get a finger on the boot just as Mr. Diggory yelled "Three!" Suddenly, they were spinning around the boot. The world around them was disappearing. Sara was vaguely aware that they were in the air now.

"Let go, kids!" Mr. Weasley called over the rushing wind.

They released the boot and went cascading toward the earth. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins landed hard on the ground. Sara, Cedric, Mr. Diggory, and Mr. Weasley floated gracefully from the sky and landed on their feet.

"You can't step out of a fireplace without stumbling, yet you manage to fall gracefully out of the sky?" Fred asked Sara, rubbing his backside as he stood up.

"Shocking, I know," she rolled her eyes.

They followed the two men up yet another hill and came upon a smattering of people, tents, and merriment.

"Well kids, welcome to the Quidditch World Cup!" Mr. Weasley announced.

There were tents as far as the eye could see. Some sported white and green flags, while others displayed their burgundy pride. They made their way through crowds of people also dressed in their respective team colors. There were people on broomsticks sailing overhead, likely drunk already despite the early morning hour.

"Parting of ways I think, old chap," Mr. Diggory said, shaking his friend's hand.

"See you at the match then," Mr. Weasley replied heartily.

"See you later," Cedric said with a wink before following his father into their tent.

"Yeah, when the Irish pummel the Bulgarians," she called after him before following the others a short way down the path.

"Ah, home sweet home," Mr. Weasley declared, pulling open the flap of a tiny tent.

Sara followed the twins inside and found that it was enormous, probably the size of a small house. There were multiple bedrooms, multiple bathrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, and a huge sitting room in the center of it. She wandered into the smaller room and dropped her bag on the bottom bunk. Hermione took the one above her, and Ginny took the one above Hermione. Sara strolled back out and noticed Fred and George leaning back with their feet on the table. She sauntered over to them and hopped up onto the table, watching everyone else scurry about the tent.

"This is so cool," she murmured, leaning back and resting her hands on the table behind her. "I'm excited to watch the match tonight too."

"Ireland's totally gonna kick ass," Fred said confidently.

"Well, that's a given. But Krum's pretty good too. Ireland's obviously going to win with Troy and Mullet and Moran, no keeper alive could stop them. But I wouldn't put it past Krum to catch the Snitch either," she noted.

"For someone who hates flying, you really love to watch Quidditch," Fred teased.

"For someone who really hates cooking, you sure love to eat," she retorted cheekily.

"Ouch," George chuckled.

"We should go wander. We've got some time before the match starts," Sara suggested, jumping down from the table.

She dragged them out of their seats and checked with Mr. Weasley before setting off to explore. A few drunk men stopped them to flirt with Sara, but she just brushed them off and continued onward.

"Oi, hold up!" they heard off to their left.

"Lee!" they shouted.

They headed over to their friend's tent and wandered inside. A loud shout startled them, and they looked over to see Lee's older brother and some of his friends playing a drinking game. Lee rolled his eyes and gestured for them to sit. Sara and George dropped onto one of the couches while Lee and Fred took separate seats.

"Here Lee, share some with your friends," his brother yelled, tossing a bottle of Firewhiskey to him.

Lee took a swig and passed it to Fred, who passed it to George, who passed to Sara. They chatted mildly, moving the alcohol around the circle. They didn't realize how much they'd had until Lee's brother invited them to come over and play with them. Fred and Lee joined in the game, but George waved them off. Sara attempted to stand up and wobbled, falling back onto the couch and laying across George's lap. Her face was flushed and she laughed loudly. He looked down at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Someone's a lightweight," he chuckled.

"Shut up," she slurred, punching him lightly.

She sat up again and looked over her shoulder at him. She looked almost seductive, and he had to remember to breathe.

"Let's play a game," Fred said, suddenly dropping down onto the couch next to Sara.

"Truth or dare!" Lee yelled, dropping onto the chair he'd previously occupied.

"Are we seven years old?" Sara asked, leaning back on the couch and dropping her head onto George's shoulder.

"Come ooooooooooon, please?" Fred begged.

"Fine," Sara conceded. "Truth or dare, Fred?"

"Hmmm… Truth, for now."

"Have you and Angelina snogged yet?" Sara asked, smirking drunkenly.

"Now now, I'm a gentleman, I wouldn't-"

"Oh my god, you totally have!" Sara exclaimed, punching Fred's arm.

"Lee, truth or dare?" he asked avoiding the question and turning to his friend.

"How about a dare."

"Alright, go flash one of the drunk people outside," Fred challenged.

Lee smirked as he stood up and disappeared out the flaps of the tent. The guys at the table had stopped their game and were watching intently where he had just disappeared. They heard a yell a few tents away, and a moment later Lee flew back into the tent, closing up the flaps behind him.

"No fucking way," his brother laughed, shaking his head as he turned back to his game.

"Sara, truth or dare?" Lee asked, dropping back onto the chair.

"Mmm, dare," she said.

"Here's the deal: kiss Fred, then kiss George. You have to decide which is the better kisser. Tongues are required."

Sara looked at Lee as if he'd grown a second head. He had to have planned that or something. Still, she was a bit tipsy, and the alcohol seemed to have emboldened her a bit. She turned to Fred and leaned up, moving her face close to his. He closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue attempted to push its way into her mouth, and she obliged. He was nice, but a bit awkward and slightly demanding. She pulled back and pondered it for a minute before turning to George.

He swallowed as he watched her lean toward him. She rested her hands on his neck and moved her lips a fraction of an inch away from his. He moved his fingers to thread in her hair and pressed his lips softly against hers. The kiss started sweet and gentle. His tongue ran along her bottom lip and she allowed him access. He massaged his tongue against hers gently, and she whimpered almost inaudibly at the contact. She pulled away and sighed softly.

"Definitely George, sorry Freddie," she muttered, leaning back against the couch once more.

"Bull shit," he scoffed.

They continued their game until Sara sobered up and decided the game was stupid. At around 4, they decided to head back to their tent to get ready for the match. They bade farewell to Lee before heading out among the even drunker crowd, eventually making it back to the tent. Charlie, Percy, Bill, and Mr. Weasley were all outside talking to other Ministry wizards. Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry were out buying souvenirs.

"Will you do my face paint, Sara?" Fred whined.

"Yeah, get it ready, I'll be right back," she ordered, disappearing into the girl's room.

"You're welcome, by the way," Fred nudged George before heading off to collect the supplies.

"Wait, you're welcome for what?" he asked, following Fred into their room.

"You think Lee just had the idea to play truth or dare? Or he just came up with that dare on the fly?" Fred winked.

"It was your idea? Why?" George asked confused.

"Mate, I saw the way you looked at her and Ced today. I can tell when you get jealous. I'm basically you, remember. You like her, don't you?" Fred queried, grabbing his bag from the top bunk.

"I don't… I don't know," he mumbled.

"Well, maybe now you can figure it out. Let's go enjoy a good Quidditch match first though," Fred said definitively, leading his brother back out into the sitting room.

Sara motioned them over to the table and had them sit down. Fred got out the paint and gave it to her.

"Simple or all out?" she asked Fred, uncapping the paint.

"All out, definitely," he replied.

Sara smiled and set to work on the eager twin. She covered his face in a base of white paint, then made a three-leaf clover stretching over his cheeks and up onto his forehead. She held up the mirror and let him look. He hugged her thankfully and ran off to find his hat.

"What about you?" she asked, looking down at the remaining twin.

"Not that intense," he chuckled.

"Alright, easy does it then," she replied, leaning in and setting to work.

She painted green and white strips on his cheeks to match the scarf Fred had left him. Her face was so close to his again as she worked on the paint. She was biting her bottom lip in concentration, and her green eyes were set in determination. He swallowed hard and tried to will his eyes to look somewhere else, but he just couldn't avert his gaze. He was almost grateful when she pulled back to examine her work, nodding in approval. She held up the mirror for him and he nodded as well.

"Good," he said, smiling up at her.

"Excellent," she wiped her hands on the cloth Fred had left and closed up the paint jars.

Sara bought a green rosette to accompany her entirely green outfit—lime green shirt, forest green jacket, and vibrant green pants. Her necklaces were composed of green beads and Irish flags. She was wearing a green beret atop her blond mane. She also bought a rosette each for Fred and George, since earlier they'd bet all their money to Ludo Bagman that Krum would catch the snitch but that Ireland would win.

When a loud gong sounded from just beyond the forest, the crowds began to gravitate toward the path that led to the massive structure that would serve as the Quidditch pitch. Mr. Weasley told Harry that it comfortably seated a hundred thousand. They handed their tickets to the Ministry witch at the entrance.

"Prime seats! Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go," she said, handing him back the tickets.

They entered the stadium and began their ascension up the massive staircases. Higher and higher they climbed, and still they didn't stop until they reached the top of the stairs. They opened up a door leading to a magnificent box filled with twenty or so squashy purple chairs. The eleven of them filed into the front row of seats and peered down at the ground below them. They were unbelievably high up and seated at the very center of the pitch. Their box filled up with various Ministry officials, all of whom Percy seemed eager to please. Sara really noticed Bill and Charlie for the first time, both of whom were very immersed in conversation with one another. While Bill was tall and lanky, Charlie was shorter and stockier with many scars adorning his body from the dragons (at least she assumed).

"This is amazing," she murmured, peering over the side of the box again.

"These are such awesome seats," Fred marveled.

"Sara, your dad's here," George said.

Sara looked up and saw her father standing in the doorway of the box. She leaped up and ran toward him with a large smile on her face.

"Daddy, what are you doing here?" she asked. "Come to watch the match with us?"

"No, I can' stay, just come up to give yeh meh love," he said, pulling her into a tight hug.

She patted his back and returned the hug, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek before pulling away. He looked tired, but this was nothing new. He'd been running on very little sleep this summer, working on the enchantments for this stadium.

"Are you on duty tonight?" she asked.

"Ah, yeh know, gotta help out," he waved her off.

"Daddy," she chided.

"Always worryin' about meh," he laughed.

"I just want to make sure you'll take care of yourself this year," she sighed.

He smiled warmly at her and patted her shoulder. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the smile on his face fell into an angry scowl. Sara had never seen her father look this way. For a moment, she wondered if she had done something wrong, but she realized his eyes were no longer on her. She turned her head and saw three people she'd rather not have in the box with them.

Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway to the box, staring unidentifiably at her father. The expression was one Sara had never seen him wear. Normally he had a confident sneer upon his sleek face; but now, his look was unclear. He continued on and allowed Draco to come into view. He caught Sara's eye for no more than a moment before averting his gaze and following hurriedly after his father. A woman entered the box after Draco, and Sara assumed this was his mother. Her white-blond hair mingled with dark brown streaks, and it was unclear what her real hair color was. She had icy blue eyes the same shade as Draco's. Her eyes met Sara's and she let out a gasp and clutched her chest as if she'd been frightened. She stared at Sara for a moment, as if trying to memorize her. Sara felt her father's hand on her shoulder once more, his grip tight.

"Go on, Narcissa," he spat venomously. "Follow yehr husband like yeh always do, he's waitin' fer yeh."

Narcissa looked at Liam for a moment, then back at Sara, before following quickly after her husband and son, who were being "introduced" to her party (as if they didn't know who Draco Malfoy was). Sara looked back up at her father, who was still glaring at the retreating Narcissa.

"Daddy, what-" Sara began.

"Now's not the time," he shook his head, trying to snap himself out of the silent rage he was in. "I won't ruin yehr night. Have fun, love."

He kissed her quickly on the forehead before heading out of the box, back to working himself too hard for a Ministry that really didn't appreciate him. Sara sighed heavily before returning to her seat between Fred and George. Fred was talking over his father to Bill and Charlie, but George watched her with a concerned look on his face.

"Everything alright? He looked pissed," George asked quietly.

She feverishly told what had happened to George, making sure he voice was quiet enough for only him to hear.

"Malfoy's mum?" he asked. "What would he have against her? I mean, other than the fact that Malfoy had to come out of her."

"Dunno," Sara mumbled.

She turned around and saw Narcissa staring at her. She was a row back and at the other end of the row. When she noticed Sara watching her, she snapped her eyes forward as if she had only been peering around.

Sara turned around just as Bagman stormed into the box. He looked jovial enough to cover up the slightly uncomfortable that had fallen in the box when the Malfoys arrived.

"Everyone ready?" he asked, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

The Minister nodded, and Bagman pressed his wand to his throat and muttered, _"Sonorus!"_

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome!" his magically magnified voice boomed over the stadium. "Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

He went on to announce the Bulgarian mascots (veela who danced enticingly for the crowd, though Hermione and Sara merely rolled their eyes) and the Irish mascots (tiny Leprechauns who exploded from a large firework and rained down on large gold coins). Then he announced the Bulgarian team, who zoomed into view on their broomsticks. The crowd exploded for Krum, the Bulgarian seeker. Then he announced the Irish Quidditch team—for whom Sara was on her feet screaming, especially Lynch (the Seeker and captain), who was her personal favorite. She had a feeling that there were a few judgmental eyes on her as she screamed for her home team, but she didn't care, and before long the others joined her.

It was exciting, and Sara felt herself losing her voice long before it was over. As she predicted, the Bulgarian keeper was no match for the Irish chasers. They scored shot after shot, only letting in a few of the Bulgarian shots. Krum did catch the Snitch, but the Irish still won by ten points. Sara screamed and threw herself into George's arms, temporarily forgetting her slight fear of heights. He laughed and caught her, inwardly pleased with the fact that she had turned to him and not to Fred.

They returned to their tent and brought out the drinks. Amos and Cedric joined them for a celebratory Firewhiskey (butterbeer for the under-seventeens) before returning to their own tent. A fiddler outside began to play jovial music, and Fred and George began to fake-Irish dance around the tent. Sara rolled her eyes at them and sat down next to Hermione.

"There's no one like Krum," Ron declared, stepping up onto one of the chairs. "He's like a bird, the way he rides the wind." Fred and George flapped their arms and circled Ron like birds. "He's more than an athlete; he's an artist."

"I think you're in love, Ron," Ginny commented.

"Shut up," Ron said.

The twins composed a quick love serenade for Ron to sing to Krum, but Sara was distracted. Mr. Weasley had stuck his head outside the tent. A flash of green light zoomed past and he pulled his head back into the tent.

"Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on," Fred noted.

"Stop!" Mr. Weasley commanded, breaking up the pillow fight between George and Ron. "It's not the Irish. We've got to get out of here, now."

Sara stood up and moved toward Fred and George. They all followed Mr. Weasley outside and were confronted with screaming campers and fires.

"Get back to the portkey everyone, and stick together!" Mr. Weasley ordered.

Fred, George, Sara, and Ginny took off immediately, pushing through the crowds back toward the hill where their portkey was. They maneuvered around a corner and were met with a pair of hooded figures. The figures moved to raise their wands, but Sara and George were quicker.

"_Stupefy_!" they yelled at the same time.

The red jets of light hit the cloaked figures, sending them flying backwards and out of their path. The four hurried on and finally reached the edge of the campground. They cautiously stepped over the hill and found Cedric and Mr. Diggory waiting on the other side.

"Glad you kids are alright," Mr. Diggory said breathlessly.

"What happened?" Cedric asked.

"It… It looked like death eaters," Sara murmured.

"Where are the others?" Cedric queried.

"We got separated," Sara explained.

They waited in silence for more than twenty minutes. The sounds on the other side of the hill began to die down. Sara wrapped her arms around herself as the chill night air hit her. George noticed and pulled her against him.

"Do you think they're okay?" she whispered, looking up at him with a worried expression.

"They always have been," George replied, trying to comfort her.

A loud sound similar to an explosion echoed through the air and Sara jumped in George's arms. A green flash of light burst through the darkness before erupting in the sky. The green light took the form of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. Mr. Diggory gasped.

"The dark mark," he blanched.

"So it was death eaters?" Cedric asked.

His father nodded vigorously, seemingly captivated by the mark in the sky. They waited for a long time before Mr. Weasley, Hermione, Ron, and Harry trudged over the hill.

"Arthur, what happened?" Mr. Diggory asked.

"We're not sure. It seems as if death eaters swarmed the campsite. All of the tents were burned down, and Harry saw one of them release the mark. That's all we really know," he explained, sounding exhausted.

"Well, at least everyone's safe," Mr. Diggory sighed.

"We might want to get back," Mr. Weasley said, gesturing toward the portkey.

They all gathered around a rusty tin can and once again spun wildly around it. It was dark, and now they couldn't see their surroundings change. Sara and Cedric seemed a bit flustered and stumbled to the ground while Mr. Diggory and Mr. Weasley floated down gracefully and everyone else fell rather ungracefully. Sara bade farewell to Cedric who headed the opposite direction with his father. The twins hooked their arms around Sara's and walked back to the Burrow in silence. When they entered, Mrs. Weasley immediately rounded on her husband and began prying him for answers. She had obviously heard about what had happened. Everyone took this as their cue to head upstairs.

"That was… Just-" Fred mumbled.

"-unreal," George finished.

"This is awful," Sara murmured, dropping down onto the cot Mrs. Weasley had set up for her. "And I'm sure dad's going to be working himself to the bone on this one too. Imagine all the Muggles who must've seen…"

"What was that thing? The… dark mark?" Fred asked, leaning against their dresser.

"The dark mark is You-Know-Who's symbol. His supporters, Death Eaters, put it up in the air when they kill," Sara explained.

"And they don't know who did it?" Fred asked.

"Fred, I was with you the entire time. Your guess is as good as mine," she sighed heavily, lying down on the cot.

"What does it all mean?" George asked, sitting down on his bed across from her.

"For his supporters to be back in full swing, it means he's getting stronger," Sara murmured.

She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. Fred sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. There was a minute of heavy silence. Sara was in one of her deep thoughts.

"We should get some sleep," Fred suggested, squeezing her shoulder.

She nodded and grabbed pajamas out of her bag that she'd left on the floor before heading off to the bathroom. When she returned, both of the boys were changed and climbing into their beds. Sara flicked off the flights before tucking under her own blankets. She laid on her back and stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. The sound of Fred's rhythmic breathing led Sara to believe he was asleep. She considered whether George might be asleep too when he answered her question.

"Are you worried?" he asked in the darkness.

"Yeah," she replied, sighing heavily.

Another long silence followed, then…

"You know, I realize that I should say something to try and make you feel better. 'We'll be okay' or 'Don't worry.' But I think I know you better than that. I don't know if we'll be okay, and you might need to worry. But you're not gonna be alone."

Sara didn't say anything for a few minutes. It was George's turn to wonder if she had fallen asleep. Then he heard the creak of springs and saw her dark outline stand up. His bed groaned and he felt her sink down onto the mattress next to him. She snuggled against him and sighed, this time more a sigh of contentment.

"Thank you, Georgie," she whispered into the darkness.

He was grateful for the darkness that surrounded him. An intense blush was spreading across his face. Still, he wrapped an arm around her and heard her breathing fall into a pattern almost matching Fred's.

"Good night," he whispered after she'd been asleep for nearly an hour before dozing off himself.


	7. Prefect

They all spent the next week locked up in the Burrow trying to entertain themselves. Mr. Weasley was rarely home, often leaving before they woke up in the morning and returning long after dinner. The boys had taken to pickup games of Quidditch to pass the time. Sara still had a few books to read from her summer list, and Hermione had taken to pouring over her new schoolbooks.

A knock on the front door late on Saturday evening was the only thing out of the ordinary that had happened all week. Mrs. Weasley tentatively opened the door, saw who it was, and beckoned the guest in warmly. Sara gasped and leaped from her seat on the couch.

"Daddy!" she exclaimed.

The first thing she noticed about her father was that, beneath his wide smile, he was exhausted. She guessed he had slept very little in the last week. Still, it did not take away from the excited look on his face. She noticed he had an open envelope in his hand.

"Darlin', yeh've made yehr old man so proud," he laughed, scooping her up into a large hug.

"What happened?" she asked breathlessly.

"I got yehr letter from school today. Would've just given it to Arthur to give to yeh, but I wanted to deliver the news mehself," he smirked.

"My… letter?" she repeated.

He reached into the envelope and pulled out something scarlet and gold. He placed it almost delicately into her open palm. It was a patch with a large P superimposed over a Gryffindor lion. She recognized the patch immediately.

"A prefect?" she gasped, looking up at her father with wide eyes.

"A prefect," he repeated with a proud smile.

"Oh, dear, that's wonderful!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

"I… I honestly can't believe it," she muttered, staring down at the patch.

"Why can't yeh believe it, darlin'? Yehr the most deservin'," her father laughed.

"I thought being friends with Fred and George would've already ruined my chances," she said.

Her father and Mrs. Weasley both laughed heartily. The boys were still upstairs doing who knows what. Her father gave her one last hug before heading back to the Ministry. She stared down at the official paper requesting her services as Gryffindor Prefect.

"That's so wonderful, dear. Oh, a prefect!" Mrs. Weasley gushed.

By the time she finished making dinner, everyone was slowly making their way downstairs. Mrs. Weasley announced Sara's new position to every person who came into the kitchen. First Hermione and Ginny, then Harry and Ron, and lastly Fred and George. The twins smashed her between them in a hearty hug.

"Our little girl, a prefect," Fred beamed.

"I never thought this day would come," George cried.

"I'd have thought being friends with us would've automatically counted you out!" Fred laughed.

"THAT'S WHAT I SAID!" Sara exclaimed.

"Think of the things we can get away with now," Fred said deviously.

"Think of how often you'll be getting in trouble now, considering all of the things that I know about you two," she rolled her eyes.

The next morning, they loaded up into Muggle taxis—with some troubles, including overexcited owls, fireworks exploding in Fred's trunk, and Crookshanks mauling the taxi driver. They arrived at King's Cross Station and trudged through the rain to get inside. At Platform 9 ¾, Mrs. Weasley gave them all tearful hugs goodbye as they made their way onto the train. Sara, Fred, and George headed toward their usual compartment and deposited their things. The train heaved off and Sara sighed heavily.

"S'wrong?" Fred asked, taking a seat.

"I have to go to a prefect's meeting. Wondering who the other Gryffindor will be," she mused.

"McLaggen," the twins said in unison.

"I'll absolutely die," Sara vowed as she took her leave. "Be back soon."

She headed up the train toward the front where the Head Boy and Girl's compartments were. She peeked into the open door and saw a few others sitting there. She recognized the two Ravenclaws and one of the Slytherins. Sara took a seat and zoned out, waiting for the meeting to start.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

Sara looked up and had to stop herself from cringing. Cormac McLaggen took the seat next to her and smiled broadly.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure," he announced. "My name is Cormac McLaggen, I'm in Gryffindor. And who might you be?"

"Sara Roth, Gryffindor too," she replied shortly.

"Really, Gryffindor, eh? Can't believe I've never noticed you," he winked.

Sara rolled her eyes after he had looked away. She'd had at least a handful of classes with him over the years, and he had never once noticed her. The Head Girl stepped up to the front of the compartment and led them through the gist of their duties. They'd patrol the hallways at night once every week or so and were able to administer detentions to students other than prefects—something that seemed to get Cormac very excited. They were also informed that this year would be a bit different than the past, and that if they had any questions not to hesitate to ask. With that, the Head Girl bid them farewell. Sara stood brusquely and made to leave.

"Hey, wait up!" Cormac called after her.

Sara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Cormac drew up next to her, and she distinctly noticed him giver her the once over.

"Need something?" she asked, not looking at him.

"I'm looking forward to working with you. Walk you back to your compartment?" he offered.

"I suppose," she sighed.

He walked next to her and asked her questions, to which she gave short, one-word answers and rarely asked the same of him. She stopped in front of the compartment.

"Well, this is me. Thanks," she forced a smile.

"Anytime," he winked as he strolled onward.

She opened the door and slammed it shut behind her. The twins and Lee looked up at her questioningly. Sara dropped onto the seat next to George and sighed.

"Screw you both," she mumbled.

"It _was_ Cormac!" they both exclaimed.

"Honestly, this is ridiculous," she groaned, running her fingers through her hair.

"What's wrong now?" Lee asked, a bit confused.

"She got prefect, and McLaggen is the other Gryffindor," George explained.

"Rough," Lee tried to hide his chuckle.

"Whatever, I'll just have to learn how to ignore him," she grumbled, laying her head on George's shoulder.

Fred saw her eyes closed and looked up at his brother. The blush on his cheeks nearly matched his hair. He bit back a laugh, and returned his attention to Lee. George did his best to relax, despite Sara's dozing body so close to his.

Sara awoke later and found the compartment empty. Fred and Lee had probably run off to chase Angelina. George was sound asleep, so she took a book from her trunk and began to read. The sky outside was dark and the rain was coming down in torrents. It reminded her of the year before when the dementors had attacked. She involuntarily shuddered.

"What's wrong?" George asked suddenly, jerking awake.

"Oh, ah, nothing. Sorry," Sara said, almost embarrassed.

"It's fine. What time is it anyway," George asked with a yawn.

"Not sure," Sara replied, shutting her book.

As if on cue, Lee and Fred bustled in and told them they were nearly there. They changed into their school robes and felt the train come to a slow halt. They hauled their trunks out and left them in piles—because they somehow always made it to their dormitories, though no one ever really knew how—before climbing onto the carriages and heading off toward the castle. The rain pounded against the side of the carriage, and Sara shivered from the cold, leaning closer to George for warmth. When the carriage pulled to a stop, they rushed into the castle and were hit with a blast of warmth.

"Lovely," Sara sighed in contentment.

They strode past the Slytherins, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs to take their seats at the Gryffindor table. The boys sat down, but Sara felt someone grab her arm. She turned to see the bright smile of Cedric Diggory.

"Hey, boys-only," she laughed.

"Is that my new nickname?" he asked.

"Well, it's certainly not mine," she smiled.

"Were you all okay after the match? After you went back home and stuff?" he asked seriously.

"Oh, yeah, we were all fine, just a little shaken. You and your dad okay?" she replied.

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine. Dad's been so busy at the Ministry, I've hardly seen him since then."

"My dad too, and Mr. Weasley. It's made quite an uproar," Sara mused.

"Well, I just wanted you to know, if you need anything this year, I'll look out for you," he promised.

"Well, thank you, Cedric. That's very nice of you," she smiled, touching his arm.

At that moment, Professor McGonagall entered with the first years in tow. Cedric returned to his seat and Sara took her spot between the twins. She didn't notice George watching her as she turned to watch the sorting. The first years were sorted and the food appeared. Fred and George tore into their dinner. Sara often enjoyed watching them scarf down their food more than she enjoyed the actual meal. As she watched Fred cram a roll into his mouth, she hoped sincerely that she'd never have to issue him a detention for something stupid. When the empty plates cleared, Dumbledore stood before the students, who grew silent almost immediately.

"So!" he began. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for our attention, while I give out a few notices."

Sara stopped listening and noticed the proliferation of empty seats at the faculty table. There would likely be a new DADA professor, and she wondered who would be ballsy enough to fill the position. A small uproar tore her from her musings. She noticed Harry, Fred, and George looking absolutely appalled.

"What?" she asked, turning to George.

"No Quidditch this year," he whispered.

"This is due to an event that will be staring in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy—but I am sure you will enjoy it immensely," Dumbledore announced. "I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"

A deafening clap of thunder interrupted him, and the doors of the Great Hall flew open. A man stood in the doorway leaning on a walking stick. His wooden leg clunked as he walked toward the faculty table. Sara recognized this man immediately.

"Moody," she mumbled.

She didn't realize how loud she'd said it until his head snapped toward her. He was only a few feet away from her. His one good eye stared at her intently, while his fake wooden eye began to spin violently. He licked his lips and snarled as he walked past her. Sara cringed and shrunk against George.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

"He's… Blimey, I don't even know," she muttered.

Moody took his seat next to Dumbledore and began to eat hungrily. His fake eye was zooming about restlessly.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody," Dumbledore gestured toward the man. "As I was saying, we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" Fred exclaimed, earning a slap on the arm from Sara.

"I am _not_ joking, Mr. Weasley, though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…" McGonagall coughed, interrupting him. "Er—but maybe this is not the time… no… Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament… Well, some of you will not know that this tournament involves =m so I hope those of you who _do_ know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely. The Triziward Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities—until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued. There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament, none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself of herself in mortal danger. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their schools, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

Fred seemed entirely eager to sign up, and Sara was sure George was excited as well. The slight hum of people claiming they were going to be the next Hogwarts champion filled the Great Hall. Sara felt slightly uneasy.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age—that is to say seventeen and older—will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you re underage. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

"They can't do that! We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?" George scowled up at Dumbledore.

"They're not stopping me entering. They champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!" Fred exclaimed.

They were slowly making their way back towards the Gryffindor common room. Fred and Hermione bickered most of the way back, about how it was dangerous, and how an aging potion might do it, and how people have died, and how cool it would be to enter. Sara remained quiet, and George had taken notice.

"Something wrong?" he asked as they were climbing through the portrait hole.

"No, nothing at all, actually," she smiled up at him.

She bid the boys goodnight and followed Hermione through the doorway to the girls' dormitory. She barely pulled off her robes before falling into bed. She felt such a rush of relief upon hearing that there was an age limit. That meant there was no chance of her losing Fred or George, or even Ron or Harry. The tournament would be dangerous, and the thought of losing them was too much. The sound of the rain pounding against the windows and the pattering of Katie's feet on the stone floor as she entered and quietly got ready for bed lulled Sara to sleep.


	8. Imperio

The next morning, Sara met up with the boys for breakfast. They were discussing how they could age themselves to somehow enter the tournament. Sara rolled her eyes and dropped onto the bench across from them. Her schedule was waiting for her. She examined it and grimaced.

"How disgusting," she muttered, flinging it at the boys.

George looked it over and whistled before handing it to Fred, who just shook his head.

"You're gonna kill yourself, Sara," Fred scolded.

"Well, at least I'll die being miserable, then," she sighed, putting some jam on her toast.

As she predicted, her day was—for lack of a better term—disgusting. A day of double Potions, Arithmancy, Charms, and Transfiguration left her lying facedown on the common room couch.

"Please come down to dinner with us," Fred pleaded, shaking her.

"Fred Gideon Weasley, just because I am exhausted, do not think that I will hesitate to jinx you," she threatened, her face still buried in the pillow.

"Looks like I've got no other choice," he sighed.

Sara was suddenly lifted off of the couch and thrown over Fred's shoulder. She cried out in protest and tried to wiggle free, but it was no use. Fred was much too strong for her. He carried her all the way down to the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall before finally allowing her to stand on her own. She punched him in the arm before walking around to sit on the opposite side of the table. George joined her, while Lee sat down next to Fred. They went on about how amazing Moody was and how he knew what it was like to be out there fighting dark wizards. He was in the middle of his potatoes when George felt something heavy on his shoulder. He looked over to find Sara asleep.

"Guess she really was tired," Fred marveled. "She can sleep anywhere, I'm so jealous."

"I'm gonna take her back up to the common room," George said, shoveling the last bit of food into his mouth before jostling her awake.

"What?" she asked dazedly.

"Come on, lets go to bed," George took her arm and led her back to the common room.

"George?" she said quietly after they had climbed the marble staircase leading away from the Great Hall.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Could you carry me?" she asked.

He looked down at Sara. His arm was tucked around her waist to support her, but she still seemed to be dragging her feet. Her eyes were closed. She was so tired. He very carefully leaned down and slid his free arms under her knees and pulled her up to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck for support and laid her head on his shoulder. As he climbed the staircases leading to Gryffindor Tower, he marveled at how serene she looked as she dozed off once more. He was very thankful that he didn't pass anyone in the hallway because he was quite sure he was blushing. The fat lady cooed at them as he stopped in front of the portrait hole, which made him blush even more. He climbed through the portrait hole and stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories.

"Here we are," he murmured as he shook her awake gently, setting her back down on the ground. "Looks like this is where we part ways."

"Thank you," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

He couldn't help himself as he thought about just how adorable she looked. She padded up the spiral staircase, and his eyes followed her until she disappeared.

"What is wrong with me?" he muttered, shaking his head vigorously to try and regain his senses.

He turned to head back to the Great Hall and hadn't taken more than a step before he heard it.

"Goodnight, George."

He froze mid-stride. He listened closely and made out the sound of a large wooden door opening, then clicking shut. Sara had said that. Her voice had not been entirely loud, and he had heard her quite clearly. It was rather likely that she had heard him ask that question of himself—she had been lower on the stairs then and he hadn't spoken quietly. Still, she was so exhausted, he thought she might have completely missed what he'd said. He returned to the Great Hall with these thoughts weighing heavily on his mind.

The weeks passed a bit too quickly for Sara's liking. She was struggling through the heavy homework loads for all of her classes, working in the hospital wing when needed, performing her duties as prefect, and attempting to keep Fred and George out of trouble. The teachers were hassling them about O.W.L.s as September faded into October, but one teacher in particular got to Sara.

Mad Eye Moody was a close family friend. He had always been unusually kind to Sara when he saw her at Ministry parties and whatnot. He and her father seemed to be something close to friends—which was quite the feat for Moody. But now, he seemed to have completely forgotten her. She had expected at least some acknowledgment of their relationship—a wink or even just a hello—but instead he leered at her during class. She caught him licking his lips upon the sight of her on more than one occasion. At this point, she was just thankful that he hadn't asked her to stay after class.

The fifth years quieted almost immediately when Moody entered for their lesson. They had heard from a few of the fourth years that he used the Imperius curse on them—very innocently, of course. As many of their lessons had coincided thus far they had an inkling they would be in for the same fate. Moody hobbled to the front of the room and turned to face the students with a snarl on his face.

"I suppose most of you have heard from the fourth years. Today I'll be placing a few of you under the Imperius curse to see how it affects you, as requested by Dumbledore. If any of you have a problem with it, there's the door," he said, pointing to the back of the classroom. "Only one fourth year was able to fight off the curse even a little bit. Let's see if any of you can do better."

He called up students one at a time and placed them under the Imperius curse. She watched Katie attempt to vault over Moody's desk at the front of the room; Cho Chang rolled around on the ground as if she was on fire; one of the annoying Slytherin girls who'd pushed Katie last year tried to perform a complex choreography of acrobatic stunts. With each student who failed to fight off his curse, Moody seemed to get more and more disappointed.

"Roth, your turn," Moody mumbled.

Sara stood from her seat and stood across from him at the front of the room. She bit her bottom lip nervously. What stupid thing would be force her to do, she wondered. He raised his wand lazily and pointed it at her.

"Imperio!"

Sara braced herself for an impact that never came. When she looked at Moody again, he looked completely blank. His wand was still in the air and he was not moving. A curious thought crossed Sara's mind—one that was completely unfounded, but piqued her curiosity.

_Spin around three times,_ she thought.

To her utter surprise, Moody moved his legs and spun himself once, twice, three times in a circle before stopping to look at her again. Even his magical eye was still.

_Go out in the hall and come back,_ she ordered.

Slowly, he hobbled down the walkway between the desks and opened the door, stepped outside, and came back. He looked blankly at her once more.

_Ah, sorry. Break the curse,_ she thought.

Moody suddenly dropped his wand and stared at Sara with a confused look on his face. His magical eye resumed its spinning.

"Have you ever used the Imperius curse, Roth? Or had it used on you?" he snarled.

"N-no sir," she stuttered, realizing now that every eye in the room aside from Moody's fake one was sizing her up.

"Alright, alright, McLaggen, stop your gawking and get up here," Moody growled.

Sara took her seat next to Katie, still aware of the multiple pairs of eyes still staring at her.

"What was that?" Katie whispered to her.

"I have no idea. I really don't. I've never been imperiused before," Sara shrugged.

She was spared from further questioning when Cormac, under the Imperius curse, began to prance about the room like a ballerina singing "I Feel Pretty." The room erupted in laughter, and Moody's face lightened a bit. Sara had a sinking suspicion Cormac's punishment was to make up for Moody's failure to imperius her. She noticed that Moody's magical eye would make frequent stops from zooming about to stare at her, and it left her very unsettled.


	9. Ivan

The next week, a sign was put up announcing that the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students would be arriving on October 30th—only a week away. The castle was in a frenzy. Students could only talk about the tournament, the castle was being cleaned from top to bottom, and the Great Hall was lavishly decorated to showcase the individual houses.

Sara was sitting across from Fred and George the morning of the thirtieth eating her breakfast contentedly. The boys were talking in hushed voices.

"Are you still on about this?" she asked.

"Oh, bugger off," Fred mumbled.

He swiftly received a spoonful of egg in the face for mouthing off, which made George chuckle. Their grumbling was perhaps the only depressive conversation in the whole hall. Every other student seemed excited about the people who would be arriving that evening. The boys resumed their whispering, and soon they were joined by Ron, Hermione, and Harry. They mouthed off to Ron, who was perhaps the only person who would take their verbal beatings. When Hermione went off about her S.P.E.W. research once more, George seemed to have had enough.

"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?" he asked.

"No, of course not. I hardly think students are supposed to-" she began.

"Well, we have," George interrupted, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're _happy_. They think they've got the best job in the world-"

"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione exclaimed.

She was cut off by the mail arriving, and Sara recognized her father's owl swoop down and land on the table in front of her.

"Hello, Artemis," she cooed, scratching beneath the owl's beak.

He hooted happily and stuck out his leg. Sara removed the letter and gave him a bit of bacon before sending him off. She opened the letter and read her father's scrawled writing.

_Darling  
><em>_Hope school is going well for you. Moody's been getting a bit off since he retired, but I wouldn't take it personally. If you notice anything too out of the ordinary, it might be worth a trip to see Professor Dumbledore. Work is work. I've been busy since the World Cup, trying to undo everything the death eaters did. But don't you worry about me. Focus on your schoolwork. And whatever you do, don't let those Durmstrang boys sway you, some of them can be mighty convincing. Give the boys my best.  
><em>_I love you,  
><em>_Dad_

Sara smiled as she read her father's letter. She could just hear his thick Irish drawl even through his written words. She looked up and noticed the twins watching her.

"Dad sends you two his best," she said as she made to stand up from the table. "I'll see you all tonight."

She picked up her bag and strode away, unaware of George's eyes following her. He couldn't tear them away. He heard Fred chuckle and looked over to see his twin staring down at his plate of food, biting his fist in an attempt to stop the laughter.

"Shut up," George grumbled, elbowing him in the side.

That night, the students returned to their dormitories to drop off their things. Sara was one of the last to arrive.

"Hurry now, Miss Roth," Professor McGonagall scolded as she attempted to gather up the students.

Sara rushed to put her things in her room, grabbed her cloak, and ran down the stairs to join the other students. McGonagall lead the students out to the front of the castle. A cold, clear night greeted them. Sara could see very little in the fifth row, and she sighed in disappointment. She was suddenly jabbed in the sides, causing her to jump and cry out. She turned and glared at the two redheads.

"Pipe down, now," Fred laughed. "Looks like you got the _short_ end of the stick!"

"Apparently I'm quite the professional when it comes to the Imperius curse. Best not make me use it on you, Freddie," she threatened darkly. Her stature was something that always irked her.

"You'd never hurt me," he rolled his eyes.

"Aha!" Dumbledore's commanding voice called out. Sara and the twins realized that he was just two right back and right behind them. "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

They looked out over the Forbidden Forest and saw a massive black shape coming toward them. When it reached the light from the castle, the black shape took form. It was a horse-drawn carriage nearly 20 times the size of a normal one, and was pulled by massive winged horses. It landed with a mighty crash that caused Sara to jump. The door opened and a massive woman about as tall as Hagrid stepped from it. Dumbledore clapped for her, and the rest of the students followed. She approached Dumbledore with a large smile on her face. He kissed her hand and they talked quietly. Sara made out her name—Madame Maxime—before their conversation was drowned out my murmuring students. She did notice a small pack of students exit the carriage and shiver in the cool October night. Dumbledore and Madame Maxime spoke for another moment before she and her students headed up to the castle.

"D'you hear that?" Sara asked suddenly.

"Hear what?" Fred and George asked in unison.

"It sounds like… Really far away thunder," she mumbled.

"I hear it too," Lee, who was standing next to Fred, muttered.

"It's coming from over there," Sara pointed to the left.

"The lake!" Lee cried. "Look at the lake!"

They looked over at the vibrating surface of the Black Lake. At its center, a large whirlpool formed, and from it sprang a long black pole.

"It's a mast!" Harry exclaimed just ahead of Sara.

As the words came from his mouth, a large ship rose out of the water and plowed toward the bank of the lake. The silhouettes of people exiting the ship were visible, and the man leading them approached Dumbledore warmly. They shook hands, and the man looked up at the school. Though he smiled, Sara saw just how strained his expression looked, as if this was the last place he wanted to be. He beckoned back to one of the students and, when he passed, Sara recognized him immediately.

"Harry—it's _Krum!_" Sara heard Ron hiss.

The headmaster and his students headed up to the school, and Dumbledore beckoned for the students to follow them. They headed into the Great Hall, passing the Durmstrang students at the door. Fred and George were marveling at the fact that Krum was still at school, and Sara was walking just behind them.

"Excuse me, miss?" a thick, Russian voice said behind her.

The voice was accompanied by a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see two of the Durmstrang boys smiling down at her. They were tall—just barely shorter than Fred and George—and were rather attractive.

"How can I be of assistance to you gentlemen?" she asked warmly, her smile matching her tone.

"Well," the second boy spoke, his accent very heavily German, "my friend and I were wondering if we might have the pleasure of your company this evening, considering we don't know any other students here."

"Of course!" Sara exclaimed. "My table is just over here."

They followed her to the Gryffindor table and sat on either side of her, across from Fred and George. Sara smiled at the twins before turning her attention to the Durmstrang boys. She didn't see the scathing look George cast upon them.

"Might we know the name of our lovely dinner guest?" the Russian boy asked.

"Sara Roth, and how about you two?"

"I am Ivan Isator," the Russian boy said.

"And I am Hans Schumer," the German boy added.

"And you're both seventeen?" Sara queried.

"Yes. And you are as well?" they asked.

"Oh, no, no, I'm fifteen," she corrected.

Sara noticed that most of the students had taken their seats. All of the Beauxbatons students had taken refuge with the Ravenclaws. They looked as if they could not have been less comfortable. The Durmstrang boys had spread out between the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables pretty evenly. Krum had sat with a few of his friends at the Slytherin table—much to Ron's chagrin. She noticed that the Hufflepuffs looked rather disappointed that no one had come to sit with them. At the front of the hall, the three headmasters had entered. Madame Maxime and the man took their seats on either side of Dumbledore, who himself remained standing.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularily—guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!" he announced.

The food appeared in larger quantities and more varieties than they'd ever seen before. Sara helped herself to a few of the stranger dishes as well as the more familiar ones. She noticed Fred tearing into the food, but George was more just pushing it around his plate. She looked over and saw that Hans and Ivan's plates were both empty.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked.

"It is customary to wait until the woman begins eating," Ivan said, very matter-of-factly.

"At least where we come from," Hans added, flicking his eyes for an instant to Fred before returning them to Sara.

She blushed crimson and popped her fork into her mouth. George's fork clattered to his plate when he saw her expression. Never once had he seen her blush before. Fred elbowed him in the side, and George returned to spreading his food evenly over his plate. Only after Sara swallowed her first bite did Hans and Ivan begin to ladle food onto their plates.

"So then I take it you will not be entering the tournament?" Hans asked Sara as he took a sip of pumpkin juice.

"You'd be correct," Sara said slyly. "And I take it you will be?"

"You'd be correct," Ivan smirked.

"Where are you from, Sara?" Hans asked.

"Ireland," she answered. "And now, let me guess. Germany," she pointed to Hans, "and Russia," she pointed to Ivan.

"Very astute," Hans said.

The conversation was very tame as they ate—what are your interests, what do your parents do, what will you do after you're done with school (more on their end than Sara's though). The second course brought new desserts she'd never seen before. She took a bit of tart that looked interesting.

"Have you ever had this before?" Hans asked, gesturing toward the cake on his plate.

"I haven't. Is it good?" she asked.

"Here," he said.

He picked up a bite-sized piece of cake on his fork and held up for her. Sara opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the fork. George couldn't help but watch her so seductively eat the cake, unaware of the effect she was having on at least three of the men at the table.

"That's delicious," she marveled.

"We often have it back home, my mother makes it the best," he noted, eating some himself.

Sara returned to her tart, sparing a small smile for George—who seemed to be watching her. He looked quickly back down at his plate.

"If I may be so bold," Ivan said quietly, near Sara's ear, "you are incredibly beautiful."

"Thank you," she blushed furiously.

Across the table, George gripped his goblet so hard it nearly left dents. His knuckles were white from the strain. This time Fred kicked him to return him to reality.

The desserts cleared and Dumbledore stood once more. He announced the arrival of Barty Crouch, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Apparently Bagman had been a Quidditch player in his lifetime, and the students cheered wildly for him—as opposed to the cheering for Crouch, which was more like a few respectful claps. Dumbledore then bade Filch to bring up what he called the "casket." It was a wooden chest covered in multicolored jewels. Dumbledore explained that three students—one from each school—would be participating in three very dangerous tasks. The participants would be chosen by the impartial selector known as the Goblet of Fire. He opened the lid of the casket and pulled out a large wooden goblet filled with wild blue flames.

"Anyone wishing to submit themselves as a champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line," Dumbledore announced, his eyes flicking toward the Gryffindor table.

Sara peeked over at Fred and George. Fred was watching Dumbledore closely, as if scrutinizing his words. George was staring contemplatively down at the wooden table, scratching at one of the splinters. He looked up and caught her eye. She smiled sweetly at him. He forced a smile before averting his gaze.

"-are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all," Dumbledore concluded, clapping his hands together definitively.

"An age line!" Fred exclaimed as he rose from the table. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing—it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

"Fred, do you really think-" Sara started.

"Sara, I do think. And you'll be thinking the same when we pull it off tomorrow," Fred stopped her.

"I'm afraid we must return to our ship," Hans reclaimed her attention.

"Oh, yes, of course," Sara smiled up at the two boys who had already stood up next to her.

Hans extended a hand, which she gratefully took. He helped her to her feet. Hans bent down and kissed her hand softly, gave her a warm smile, and turned for the door. She had barely dropped her hand before Ivan clasped it between his own.

"Until tomorrow, my princess," he mumbled.

He raised her hand to his lips and allowed them to linger over the soft flesh as his eyes met hers. A soft gasp escaped her own lips before she could stop it, and her cheeks reddened.

"Goodnight, Ivan," she managed a smile as he moved toward the door, turning back to smile at Sara before following Hans out into the hall.

George had watched this entire exchange closely. He'd noticed Hans pull her from her seat; he'd seen the way they'd kissed her hand and bidden her goodnight; he'd watched the way she blushed under Ivan's intense gaze. As he stood from the table, he felt a pang of jealousy strike his chest. He followed Fred around the table where Sara was waiting for them. She dazedly followed them from the Great Hall. George noticed the slightly bedazzled look on her face.

"Are you listening to me, mate?" Fred asked him.

"What?"

"I was saying we should brew that Aging Potion as soon as we get back so it has time to sit overnight," Fred repeated.

"Yeah, that's fine," he mumbled shortly.

"What's eating you?" Fred asked.

"Nothing," George barked.

Fred eyed him for a moment and noticed his eyes flick back toward Sara. He immediately understood his twin's frustration. Sara was still slightly doe-eyed over the two Durmstrang boys. They followed the crowd out of the Great Hall and headed back to the Gryffindor common room. Fred and George took refuge in the corner, beginning the preparations for their potion. Sara noticed how busy they looked and headed off to bed, still too dazed to notice George watch her leave.


	10. Champions

Sara cracked her eyes open and groaned as they encountered bright sunlight. Her roommate, Katie, had likely already gone downstairs. She looked over at the clock and saw it read 10:00. Yawning, she sat up and stretched her arms over her head. She was curious to see the repercussions of Fred and George's potion, which was enough to get her out of bed and dressed for the day.

She wandered out of the portrait hole and down toward the Great Hall. She passed by a large group of people and heard "Cedric" murmured more than once. She could only assume he was immersed in the thicket of people, though she didn't care to bother him now. The Great Hall was rather unoccupied, as most students had gotten up early to see the guests enter their names. Sara grabbed a piece of toast and wandered toward her roommate, Katie.

"Have the boys been down yet?" she asked, swallowing her mouthful of toast.

"Oh, yes, it was quite the sight. They got inside the age line alright," she pointed toward the cup, surrounded by a thin golden circle that had been drawn around it on the floor. "And then they were shot back out of it. Their hair turned grey, and they got long grey beards as well. They've gone up to the hospital wing to get it reversed."

"Suppose I should go check on them," she sighed. "Thanks."

"No problem. We should get together and do our Transfiguration assignment tomorrow," Katie added.

"Sure thing," Sara waved as she left the Great Hall.

However, she didn't make it far before she ran into a familiar face—literally ran into him. The two crashed almost violently into one another and tumbled toward the ground. Sara landed hard on her butt and groaned at the impact. She looked over and saw Draco Malfoy in a similar position, only rubbing his back. Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle all stood next to him.

"Oh, Draco, are you alright?" Pansy cooed shrilly, reaching down to help him.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

"You should watch where you're going, _Roth_," Pansy glared at Sara.

"You should watch what you say to a prefect, _Parkinson_," Sara retorted, getting to her feet.

"How dare-" Pansy began.

"Pansy, shut up," Draco growled again, standing up and practically running into the Great Hall, his three lackeys following in tow.

Sara watched him disappear around the corner with a look of shock on her face. Had she been Harry, Hermione, or any of the Weasleys—or really anyone but another Slytherin, for that matter—he would have insulted her and laughed in her face. Instead, he left her alone _and_ insulted a fellow Slytherin—though to be fair, Sara was quite certain he detested Pansy nearly as much as she did. She shrugged it off and made her way up to the hospital wing where Fred and George sat on separate beds, both adorning white hair and beards just as Katie had said. She nearly fell over laughing.

"Shut it," Fred grumbled, throwing one of his pillows at her.

She merely caught it and buried it against her face in an attempt to stifle her laughter.

"I could've told you… That it wasn't... Going to… Work," she stammered between chuckles. "Suppose you needed to learn for yourself though."

"What do you want?" Fred asked.

"Just needed to see you two for myself," she replied, tossing his pillow back at him and taking a seat at the foot of George's bed. "Katie's description doesn't really do it justice. The look's quite becoming on you."

"Well, it won't be more than a quick reversal, a shave, and we'll be back to normal in no time," Fred scowled at her.

"A quick reversal indeed," Madam Pomfrey interjected, stepping in front of Fred. "Take this."

He swallowed the pill that she placed in his hand, and George did the same. With a bit of huffing and a quick smile for Sara, Pomfrey bustled off to tend to her other work. In minutes, their hair began to fade back to the familiar orange color. Their beards also turned orange, which earned another laugh from Sara.

The three of them returned to the Gryffindor common room and the boys retreated up to their dormitory to shave. Sara grabbed her Potions book, a quill, some ink, and a bit of parchment to do her assignment. She was nearly a quarter of the way through it when the twins trudged back down the stairs, arms full of supplies.

"What's this now?" Sara asked, making room on the table for their things.

"Prototypes," Fred replied, dropping his armload onto the floor and sitting down next to her.

"For our products," George added, repeating his brother's actions on Sara's other side.

"Lovely," she muttered, returning to her work.

"You know you're curious," Fred nudged her side.

"The more I actually see, the more trouble you'll get into," she chided, never looking away from her book.

"We just want your opinions," George mumbled, fiddling with one of the strings hanging off of his robes.

"Alright, alright," she shut her book and laid it in her lap. "Show me something that can't incriminate you."

"Here, check these out," George reached into his pile and pulled out a small capsule with a string hanging off of it.

Sara snorted and bit her fist to try and stop the laughter. Both boys looked incredulously at her.

"And what, might I ask, is so funny?" Fred asked.

"It just… It looks like a fancy tampon," she chuckled. Both boys turned a dark red. "Oh, come on, I'm not talking about vaginas or anything." Shades darker. "Whatever, just show me what the tampon does."

Still a dark red, George lifted the capsule up and pulled on the string. The other end exploded and a few showers of fireworks erupted from the capsule. Sara watched in amazement as the fireworks changed from red to yellow to green to blue before evaporating.

"Wow," Sara marveled, a small, amazed smile on her face. "Alright, I suppose that was awesome. Let me see."

She took another one of the capsules from the pile—she noticed there were quite a few there, and in other colors as well. She examined it for a moment before pulling the string. Five smaller fireworks shot from the end of it and exploded into five different colored showers of sparks. She gasped in excitement and looked over at George with a large smile.

"Pretty cool, huh?" he managed, trying to look away from her lovely face.

"Yeah, I'll admit it. Nothing too damning about fireworks," she laughed.

"These are just our starting projects. We've also worked up ideas for some more, and we're going to try out some new edible things too," Fred said excitedly, spreading a few more things out on the table.

"So you're really serious about this joke shop thing, then," she said, looking over the couple of things he'd laid out.

"Yeah, we've already got a good number of potential buyers," George replied, snatching away one of the gold trinkets before Sara could grab it. "Maybe don't look at that one yet."

"May I finish my essay now?" she asked, picking up her Potions book once more.

"I suppose," Fred sighed.

"Thanks," she rolled her eyes, opening once more to the page on moonstones.

She wrote avidly, ignoring the boys' tinkering and occasional chattering. When she finally finished, she rolled up the parchment and dropped it off in her dormitory. She returned and saw only George sitting at the table. Fred's pile of trinkets had disappeared as well.

"Where'd he run off to?" Sara asked, plopping down on the couch.

"Angelina. He bolted when she said she wanted to go for a walk around the grounds with him," George rolled his eyes.

"They're going to end up married, aren't they?" she cooed.

"They're so off and on, sometimes I don't even know when they're together," he shook his head.

"I think they'd make a cute couple," Sara mused.

George didn't really reply, and instead went back to fiddling with the things he'd brought down from their room. When he looked back at Sara, he saw that she was sound asleep. Wondering how she could sleep so often brought a smile to his face, and he resumed his work, looking back to check on her every so often.

Sara opened her eyes what felt like only moments after closing them and saw George still sitting in front of her, hard at work. She could only see the back of his head, but she knew that his eyebrows were narrowed and he was biting his tongue—that was how well she knew him. She absentmindedly reached out and ran her fingers through his long hair. He jumped, clearly startled, and looked back at her.

"Evening," he smiled.

"What time is it?" Sara asked.

"Nearly five," he replied. "How can you need so much sleep?"

"You saw my schedule, right? It's O.W.L. year as well," she answered, yawning deeply.

"That's true," he nodded in agreement.

"How long has it been since you two cut your hair?" she mused, reaching out to run her fingers through it once more.

"I… I dunno," he mumbled, trying to fight the blush that threatened to stain his cheeks.

There were small smatterings of people throughout the common room, mostly younger students who were slightly afraid of the two older ones at the center of the room. Most of them were probably outside, enjoying the nice weather. Sara sat up and stretched her arms over her head.

"Want to go down to dinner? I'm starving," she yawned.

"Sure, let me go put these away," he replied, gathering his items up and disappearing up the staircase leading to the boys' dormitories.

The Great Hall was quite full by the time Sara and George made it down there. All of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students were already seated at the tables, along with most of Hogwarts. They spotted Fred and ambled toward him, though he was clearly occupied trying to impress Angelina with something. Sara imitated him for a moment, and she and George laughed.

"Pardon me."

Sara looked up and noticed they had stopped directly in front of Ivan, who had stood to greet her. Hans was seated next to him, but didn't seem to notice she had arrived. He was talking rather animatedly to Katie on his left side, and she seemed quite interested in what he was saying.

"Hello, Ivan," she smiled warmly.

"Please, sit," he gestured toward the empty spot of bench on his left.

"Of course!" she replied.

George moved to go around the table and sit next to Fred, but Sara grabbed his wrist before he could walk away. He looked at her with an almost confused look on his face.

"Fred seems thoroughly occupied, will you sit next to me?" she asked, a slight smirk on her face as her eyes flicked just across the table toward Fred and Angelina.

"I… Yeah…. Sure," he stuttered.

Sara sat between Ivan and George—who still seemed baffled that she would ask him to sit with her. The food appeared in quantities nearly as massive as the night before, and Sara began to spoon food onto her plate with vigor. Ivan spared George a curt nod before turning his attention toward Sara.

"It seems Hans has become distracted," he glanced over at the German, still speaking rather animatedly to Katie.

"Yes, but he's chosen well, Katie is one of my good friends," Sara replied.

"And how have you been since last night?" Ivan asked.

"Just fine. And you?"

"A bit bored, actually. Our headmaster does not like us wandering far from the ship, so we had to stay on board all day," Ivan sighed.

"I'm quite sorry," Sara replied.

Their conversation was polite during dinner—though Sara seemed incredibly occupied by her meal. She didn't realize how little she'd eaten that day until now. At one point during the meal, she leaned over close to George's ear.

"I personally hope the one who looks like Filch is the Beauxbatons champion," she whispered.

Sure enough, at the next table over, there was a girl who could have been Filch the caretaker's sister. He nearly spit out his pumpkin juice from laughing so hard. Sara had a hard time hiding her laughter from the entire table. Ivan merely gave her an amused look. George was enjoying this night much more than the previous one. Sara seemed to be showing him more attention than Ivan, and Fred seemed to notice as well from the looks he kept shooting George across the table.

As Sara polished off her treacle tart, the food cleared and Dumbledore got to his feet. The hall fell silent as he looked out over the students.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make it's decision. I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber where they will be receiving their first instruction," he announced.

Dumbledore extinguished nearly all of the candles in the hall and plunged the room into near darkness. They watched the blue flames in the goblet roar to a bright red, emit sparks sparks, and shoot out a piece of parchment, which Dumbledore deftly caught. The room was in absolute awe.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he announced, "will be Viktor Krum."

The room exploded in applause. Ivan whistled loudly, but Sara could tell he was a bit disappointed. She patted his hand gently before returning her attention to the front. Ivan looked down at her and smiled a bit, despite his disappointment. The flame once more turned red and spat out a second piece of parchment.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

A girl with platinum blond hair stood from the Ravenclaw table proudly and strode toward the front of the room. A slew of eyes followed her, but George leaned over and whispered, "Ron fancies her" into Sara's ear. She laughed softly and looked over at the redhead in question, who was indeed staring after Fleur like she might disappear. She disappeared just as Krum had and the room fell silent once more. The goblet spat out the third piece of parchment and Dumbledore precariously unfolded it.

"The Hogwarts champion," he spoke slowly, "is Cedric Diggory!"

Though most of her table seemed rather disappointed, Sara stood up and cheered with the Hufflepuffs. Cedric smiled bashfully as he attempted to extricate himself from the slew of Hufflepuffs. Just before he passed her she shouted, "Yeah, boys-only!" He stopped and laughed, ruffling her hair a bit and winking at her before moving toward the front. She sat back down next to two very confused males.

"Boys-only?" they asked at the same time unintentionally.

"It's my nickname for him," she explained, still clapping for him.

The cheering lasted long after Cedric had disappeared, and Dumbledore still had to shout over the slight hum of conversation, though he didn't seem to mind.

"Excellent!" he called jovially. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang-"

Sara stopped listening to Dumbledore. She was distracted by the sparks that the goblet was emitting again. It had chosen the third champion, and yet it seemed to be struggling once more. The flames turned red and Dumbledore's words ceased completely. A fourth piece of parchment shot into the air, which Dumbledore caught and stared at intently. It seemed minutes before he spoke again.

"Harry Potter…" he muttered.

All of the heads in the room snapped in Harry's direction. Sara covered her mouth in shock. No one applauded. Harry looked as if he wanted very much to climb out of his own skin. Terrified did not begin to describe him.

"I didn't put my name in. You know that," she heard him try to explain to Ron and Hermione.

At the staff table, McGonagall whispered something in Dumbledore's ear. He nodded dutifully to her before addressing the crowd.

"Harry Potter! Harry! Up here, if you please!" he called unsmiling.

Hermione had to give him a nudge before he stood and stumbled toward the front of the room. Sara felt bad for Harry. She had heard him say the night before that he had no desire to enter the tournament, even if Fred and George had managed the aging potion. That, along with how awful his life had been up to this point, led her to believe that he had not put his own name into that goblet. Dumbledore gestured for Harry to go through the door that the other champions had gone through. He shuffled through it slowly, and the moment he disappeared, Dumbledore raised his arms to fend off any immediate chatter.

"The Triwizard Tournament has officially begun. And I believe it is just about time for bed. Good night to you all."

He and the other headmasters, a few teachers, Bagman, and Crouch all filed into the room where the champions were, and the hall immediately burst into chatter. The Beauxbatons students filed out as quickly as possible, but the Durmstrang boys stuck around to ask about Harry, including Ivan.

"So, this Potter, how do you think he did it?" he asked Sara.

"He didn't, that's how," she snapped. Of course no one would believe him other than her.

"But, then how-" Ivan began.

"If I knew, I'd be telling the world. All I know is that Harry did not put his name in there. This is the last thing he wants. Eternal glory… The poor boy just wants to be normal!"

Sara didn't realize how loud her voice had gotten until George laid a hand on her shoulder. Ivan looked incredibly taken aback. She muttered a hasty apology before taking George's arm and practically sprinting back to the common room. They were the first two back, so she took him over to the small couch and sat him down. She paced back and forth in front of him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, a bit confused.

"Something's just… There's something not right about this… And I can't fit all the pieces into my mind to work it out. I _know_ that Harry didn't put his name into the goblet, and he didn't get someone else to do it either. He doesn't want to be a champion of anything. He doesn't enjoy all of this undue attention. Merlin knows he gets enough of it… I just… I know I can figure it out, and its bothering me that I can't," she reasoned aloud.

George watched her pace and almost found himself getting dizzy. He stood up and caught her midstride, turning her to face him and looking her in the eyes.

"If you're right, then right now, he's just gonna want us there for him. There'll be plenty of time to figure it all out," he said, very matter-of-factly.

"But what if he gets hurt because of this?" she asked, looking up at him almost pleadingly.

"Then you'll heal him and make it all better," George smiled.

Sara chuckled, despite herself. She leaned into George and wrapped her arms around him. His eyes widened as he looked down at the top of her head. Still, he enveloped her in a warm hug, enjoying her perfumish scent of apples.

"Thanks, Georgie," she whispered, calling him by his nickname for the first time in a while.

"Anytime, doll," he replied.

They pulled away, and soon after people began to flood into the common room. Some disappeared into the dormitories, but a fair amount remained in the common room. Sara realized that they were planning festivities for him when he got back. Angelina and Katie promptly began decorating the common room. Sara opened her mouth to explain what she'd been saying to George in the hopes that they'd let the party go and simply allow Harry some peace, but she promptly realized she wouldn't be able to convince a single person in the room. She kept her mouth shut and sat down on the couch, deep in thought. The roar around the portrait hole lead her to believe that Harry had finally entered. Shouts of "How did you do it?" and "Why didn't you tell us?" confirmed that suspicion. It was about 15 minutes before Harry was even visible within the crowd. He looked positively miserable. As people continued to force butterbeers and chips on him, he appeared to want nothing more than to crawl into a large hole. He repeated the words "I don't know _how_ it happened" so many times, they lost their meaning. When he looked like he couldn't take it any longer, Sara finally stood up and approached him nonchalantly.

"Harry, come here, I have a surprise for you," she muttered, taking his hand and leading him to the staircase.

"Sara, I just-" he started.

"You will just, I promise, if you follow me," she urged.

He sighed and followed her into the staircase. She released his arm and stopped behind him. He looked down questioningly at her.

"I believe you. That you didn't do it, I mean," she nodded.

A look of absolute relief flooded over his face, and before she knew it he'd wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She returned it, laughing softly.

"You might be the only one, but you have no idea what that means to me," he sighed as he pulled away.

"Go on to bed now. I'll tell them I've kidnapped you," she winked.

"Thanks, Sara," he said, heading gratefully up the spiral staircase.

She retreated back downstairs to a crowd of confused and rowdy Gryffindors.

"What'd you do with him?" Fred shouted at her when he saw Sara come down the stairs.

"Taken him to bed, the champion needs his rest," she explained.

"Party pooper!" he yelled.

"Shut up," she laughed, throwing one of the discarded pillows at his head.


	11. An Idea

The next few weeks were hard for Harry, and Sara was trying to do her best to help him out whenever she could. Some of the students had taken to wearing badges that flashed "Support CEDRIC DIGGORY-The REAL Hogwarts Champion!" and "POTTER STINKS!" Sara, in turn, had taken to summoning them in the hall and during class. It had made rather large tears in their robes, and the best part was that they never had any idea who'd done it. She'd managed to deduct points from a small gaggle of Slytherins who were making fun of Harry—though she claimed it was for using magic in the hallway. That effectively shut them up. She'd also taken to avidly correcting people who were under the assumption that Harry had entered himself into the tournament. She'd managed to convince a few Gryffindors, but most just rolled their eyes and said she was trying to hard to look for an answer.

Things got much worse for him when Rita Skeeter published her article on the champions in the _Daily Prophet_. However, it wasn't really about the champions; it was more a fictitious retelling of Harry's life, mentioning Fleur and Krum, and completely forgetting to mention Cedric. Sara had promptly ripped up her copy and set it on fire at the breakfast table. Fred and George had a fit about that one.

Harry had taken to hanging out in the library with Hermione now that he and Ron were no longer on speaking terms. The pair often joined Sara at a table while she did her work and attempted to begin studying for her O.W.L.s. She'd also noticed Krum hanging out in the library an awful lot, and more often than not he was staring at their table. She couldn't figure out if he was trying to size up Harry or checking out Hermione—though it could have very well been both. Every so often, Ivan joined them as well. He didn't ever seem to have very much work to do, and when she asked him about it, he always just shrugged. He would bring in a book or just sit with her. After he'd apologized for upsetting her at the feast and promised to make it up to her somehow, she couldn't deny letting him sit with her in the library.

The Saturday before the match, the students flooded down to Hogsmeade for a day of frivolity. Sara arose late as always and found the twins waiting for her in the common room.

"Morning," she yawned loudly.

"I think afternoon's more like it," Fred teased.

"You'd sleep the day away if you could, wouldn't you?" George winked.

"Well, heaven forbid I be a little tired!" she exclaimed.

The trio headed down the winding path that led to the little town below. It looked rather packed today, considering there were amore bodies down there than usual. Most of the Beauxbatons girls had been befriended by the Ravenclaws and had started interacting with the rest of the school—though they didn't seem to like Sara very much at all.

The three of them went through their ritual—Zonkos, the music shop, Honeydukes, and the Three Broomsticks to warm up from the chilly November air. The boys walked out of Zonkos each with a bag under their arm.

"Examples," Fred explained.

"Gotcha," Sara replied.

"I can just go here by myself, I want to look for something. I'll meet you guys at Honeydukes," she said, waving the boys off as she stopped in front of the music shop.

"Are you sure?" George asked.

"Definitely, I won't be horribly long," she promised.

She watched the twins disappear into Honeydukes before slipping away from the music store and breaking into a run. She had no intention of looking for something in the music shop today. She rounded the corner around Zonkos and found her target.

"Cedric!" she cried, running after him.

Credic turned around and sighed in relief. Sara slowed as she approached him.

"I've been avoiding the Hufflepuffs all day. It's hard to get a moment of peace around here," he sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, should I go?" she asked.

"No!" he exclaimed, a bit excitedly. "No, I like the company. Just not when the company won't stop pestering me."

"About the company… I've got a favor. Could you please, _please_, ask your friends to stop wearing the badges? Honestly, this is getting ridiculous. I'm tired of having to rip them off their robes," she said exasperatedly.

"Yeah, I've heard you've been doing that," he laughed. "I kind of half-heartedly ask, but they don't seem to take me seriously. I'll ask for real now, I will," he promised.

"Thanks. He's certainly not having an easy time with this."

"You really think that he didn't do it, then?" Cedric asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I _know_ that he didn't do it, Ced," she corrected.

"What makes you so-"

"I just am," she interrupted.

"Alright, alright," he raised his hands in defeat.

"Cedric, can I ask you a question?" Sara asked. He nodded. "What are you doing hiding behind Zonkos?"

"Well… Ah… I'm… They just keep following me!" he said exasperatedly.

"I suppose," Sara nodded. "Cedric… Are you doing okay?"

He looked at her with wide eyes, then flashed her his adorable smile.

"I'm fine. I'm a little nervous, not knowing what the first task is and all, but I think I'm doing alright. Really. Thank you for worrying about me," he said sincerely, reaching out and patting her shoulder.

"I guess I'm just a worrier," she shrugged. "You'll let me know if you need anything?"

"I promise, I will," he vowed.

"Good. Well, I'll leave you to your peace," she bade him a farewell as she headed back down the alley toward the main road.

She rounded the corner and started making her way toward Honeydukes.

"What are you doing?" a startled voice called.

Sara gasped, jumping a few inches off the ground. She looked over to see George standing in front of the music shop, the door banging shut behind him. He crossed the cobbled street and stopped in front of her, looking down at her with an almost frightened look on his face.

"Hello," Sara said feebly.

"Don't just 'hello' me! Where were you? Fred sent me back here to find you, and when you weren't in there I got worried. Where were you?" he asked again.

"Oh, well, I… I saw Cedric disappear around—What's wrong?"

At the mention of Cedric's name, George's face had flashed darkly. However, he recovered quickly, composing himself and trying to pass it off as an itch on his nose.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Come on, you're shivering," he muttered.

Sara felt her teeth begin to chatter. She hugged her arms around herself and followed George to the sweets shop. She eyed him warily for a part of the walk. Normally, he'd be walking beside her and excitedly telling her all about the things he'd gotten from Zonkos. Now, he was marching ahead, forcing her to follow him at a quick trot, and he wasn't speaking. However, he soon realized what he was doing and slowed to allow her to catch up with him, and she just attributed it to the cold.

But George knew he wasn't just cold. Even the mention of Cedric's name made him jealous, and it wasn't something he enjoyed. Every time Ivan looked at Sara in the adoring way that he did, it made his blood boil. For four years George had been her friend, and now these guys thought they could just swoop in and try to win her heart? He'd never been more jealous of any two people in his entire life, and it was completely irrational—though he didn't really care. But despite his frustration, George realized that he was being rude to Sara. It really wasn't her fault that she had guys falling for her left and right. He held the door for her as they entered the crowded shop and let her wander in ahead of him. He couldn't see Fred anywhere in the shop and just assumed that he'd gone on to the Three Broomsticks with Angelina.

"George, look. This is neat."

George looked down to see Sara holding up a rather plain box. Upon closer examination, he saw that it said "Fill-It-Yourself Treats." The box contained hollowed-out candies and three separate fillings—nougat, strawberry cream, and chocolate.

"Really?" George asked before he could stop himself.

"Well, I mean, obviously it's not that neat if you just look at the box, but think about it. You could put _anything_ you wanted in here, not just the fillings they give you. It could be like trick candy or something. Park one of these in front of Cormac but with a little bit of Babbling Beverage in it and watch him shout nonsense for hours," Sara mused, a devious smirk on her lips.

George simply stared at her for a minute. She looked up at him and shrunk back a bit.

"Well, I mean… Maybe not," she stuttered.

"Sara, you're a genius!" George exclaimed, attracting the attention of a few surrounding students.

"Well, I know, I keep trying to tell you guys that," she teased.

"I can't see down there, how many boxes are there left?" he asked, finding himself unable to lean down and check for himself.

"Seven boxes. They'll be three Galleons and two Sickles," she said, standing up with her arms wrapped around all seven boxes.

"Oh, well, maybe not all of them then," he said dejectedly, reaching for his money in his pocket.

Sara snatched the eighth box of sweets from him and, without another word, bustled toward the front of the store. George reached her as she was pulling the Galleons out of her purse.

"Sara, I don't-" he tried.

"That's enough protesting, George," she chided as she dropped the money into the cashiers hand.

"Have a lovely afternoon," the cashier urged as she handed Sara the bag.

They darted around the shoppers and made their way outside again, bracing themselves for the cold blast of air.

"Sara, you really didn't have to pay for all of those," George tried again. "Let me pay you back or something."

"Absolutely not!" she cried, sounding almost offended. "These aren't for you… Yet. Christmas is coming up!"

"Oh," he replied lamely.

"You can carry it though, if you want to be a gentleman," she suggested, extending her arm.

He immediately took the bag from her and carried it along with his own from Zonkos. He'd completely forgotten that he had been so upset earlier. They joked and laughed all the way to the pub, where they laughed more as they watched Fred shamelessly flirt with Angelina.


	12. The First Task

On Monday night, Harry and Hermione had disappeared, which left the common room unusually empty without everyone milling about to get a good look at him. Sara, Fred, and George were all stuffed together on the couch. Though she wouldn't be having the class the next day, Sara insisted on doing her Potions homework. She scrawled feverishly on the parchment, biting her lip in concentration. Every so often, George would sneak a look over at her to see her eyes screwed up to read her tiny print.

"You know, if you didn't write so small, you could finish your essays sooner," he suggested.

"Shush, you," she muttered, the scratch of her quill never ceasing.

"Might need to work on the insults a bit," Fred teased.

"I said shush," she repeated, jamming her elbow into Fred's side while once again never stopping her furious writing.

"Why do I get the abuse?" Fred whined, rubbing his side.

"Because you won't _shush_," she said, finishing her essay with a sharp stabbed period and throwing down the quill.

"Finally," Fred yawned, standing up and stretching his arms above his head.

"What, were you just waiting for me to finish?" she asked.

"G'night, Angelina!" he called, completely ignoring Sara's comment.

As he yelled across the room, Sara reached out her quill and very slyly etched "Mum" with a heard around it on the back of his thigh. Somehow, he didn't notice her drawing, being far to preoccupied watching Angelina traipse up to the girls' dormitories. When George saw, he snorted with laughter. Fred gave his twin a suspicious look and sat back down, completely unaware of the new addition to his pants. Sara capped her ink bottle with a satisfied smirk on her face and leaned back to stretch. When they heard the portrait swing open, their attentions suddenly snapped toward the front of the room. They had not expected Albus Dumbledore to step through the portrait hole, his magnificent blue robes still billowing around him.

"Professor!" Sara exclaimed, leaping up from her seat.

"Just the young lady I had wished to see," Dumbledore smiled kindly at her over his half-moon spectacles.

"Me, sir?" she asked, slightly taken aback.

"Yes, Miss Roth. I believe I shall speak freely in present company, since I daresay you'll report everything I tell you to them anyway," he smiled at the twins, who were still seated on the fluffy couch.

"Speak away, sir," Sara invited him to take a seat in the squashy armchair as she took her spot on the couch once more.

"It always was my favorite," he admitted, dropping gracefully onto the armchair. "Now, Miss Roth, you are aware that the first task of the Triwizard Tournament is tomorrow, correct?" he asked.

"Of course, sir."

"Are you aware of what this task entails?"

"No, sir," she replied.

"Well, I shall divulge then, for it may be important for you to know. But do try to keep it quiet, it'd be such a shame to spoil the surprise." Sara, Fred, and George all nodded eagerly before he continued. "The champions will be required to get past a dragon and collect a golden egg from the dragon's nest."

"Oh my," Sara murmured.

"Indeed, very dangerous," Dumbledore agreed. "I tell you this only because I also come with a favor. Due to the dangerous nature of this task, Madam Pomfrey's healing abilities alone may not suffice. She will likely need assistance. Would you perhaps consent to being on call at the match in case some calamity does ensue?"

"Well, of course, sir," she replied, as if this was something he asked her on a daily basis.

"Wonderful," he clapped his hands together cheerily. "Tomorrow during lunch, I shall collect you, and you and I will walk down to the task together. Splendid, Poppy will be pleased to hear the news."

"Sir," she asked as he stood from his chair. "Sir, is… Will Harry be alright?"

"One can only hope. I do believe Professor Moody has taken him under his wing. Perhaps he will be able to show Harry a thing or two to help him in the coming task," he replied, heading for the portrait hole.

"Sir," she called once more, this time standing up and following him. He stood waiting for her just behind the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Sir, I've been meaning to speak to you. My father advised me that it might be wise."

"Of course," he nodded, listening intently.

"It's about Professor Moody. I've known him since I was little. He trained my mother, thought of her like a daughter. He's never been anything but kind to me. But now… Now he just… He leers at me, licks his lips too. It's a might unsettling, sir. I just thought I'd let you know."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," he replied. "Know that I will take your words to heart and investigate the matter myself. Good night, Miss Roth."

And as he strolled out of the portrait hole, she couldn't help but trust that he was in fact going to remain true to his word.

The atmosphere of the school the next morning was very mixed. Sara approached the Gryffindor lunch table to find Harry picking at his food. She stood behind him and bent low so her mouth was near his ear to prevent others from hearing her.

"Buck up, mate. You've taken on a hundred dementors at once. You can take a dragon in your sleep," she whispered and, with a wink, headed over to the other side of the table where Fred and George sat.

"Excited?" Fred asked with his mouth full of food.

"Ah, sure," Sara shrugged. "I get a front row seat."

"We've already started planning the party for Harry up in the common room after the task, if you want to come help when you're finished," George said, ladling some stew into his bowl.

"Sure thing," she agreed as she at hungrily.

She'd only just popped the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned, fully expecting to see Dumbledore, but was mistaken.

"Ivan!" she exclaimed.

"Sara," he said, taking her hand in his own and planting a kiss on top of it.

"What can I do for you?" she asked cheerily, unaware of the blood boiling in the redhead next to her.

"Well, I was just wondering if you'd like to sit with me at the match today. We cheer for different sides of course, but we are still civil," Ivan chuckled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I can't. I'll be working down in the first aid tent," she explained.

"Of course, your duties come first," he nodded solemnly.

"So get lost, Russian prick," George mumbled, though neither Sara nor Ivan heard him.

Ivan strode away just as Dumbledore drew up to the table.

"Miss Roth," he said, extending his arm for her.

"Oh, why thank you, sir," she very nearly blushed as she took it and stood from the table. "I'll meet up with you after," she called back to Fred and George as Dumbledore ushered her away.

Sara and Dumbledore seemed to attract a few stares as they strode from the Great Hall and onto the grounds. Sara could hardly blame the gawkers though. What a strange pair they must have made—a tall, aged wizard in midnight blue robes strolling down the grounds arm-in-arm with a 15-year old witch wearing purple jeans, winter boots, and a hand-knitted sweater courtesy of Mrs. Weasley. Still, Dumbledore seemed to take no notice of the onlookers. He chatted cordially with Sara about her classes and prefect duties. As they travelled down the grounds, Sara saw a large set of stands that seemed to be enclosing what assumed were the dragons. They entered the enclosure and heard a great roar just on the other side of the stands that answered her unasked question. They swept through the enclosure toward a small group of men standing around in a circle.

"Gentlemen," Dumbledore greeted them warmly.

"Sir," they all grunted.

Sara noticed that they were all very burly, and she assumed that these were the dragon handlers.

"Sir, Charlie's arm's cut up, and he won't go see the matron," one of the taller men said to Dumbledore.

"Shut up, Salyer, I told you I'm fine," a second man grunted.

This man was a bit shorter than the one who had first spoken—though he was certainly taller than Sara. He seemed to be the strongest-looking of the bunch. His flaming red hair was a few shades lighter than the scarlet blood that thickly saturated his arm.

"Weasleys," she grumbled, removing her arm from Dumbledore's and moving forward toward Charlie.

She took his arm in her hands and began to heal the large gashes that ran up his forearms. She used her wand to staunch the blood and revealed his completely healed cuts, now no more than faint scars.

"Madam Pomfrey seems hardly necessary now," Dumbledore joked. "This is Sara Roth. She'll be working at the first aid tent with Madam Pomfrey during the event."

"We met over the summer," he said, shaking her hand.

"Yes we did," she replied.

A sudden deafening roar sounded through the air and men's shouts were heard from the other side of the stands. Charlie and the other men hustled toward the noise, but not before Charlie could spare Sara a quick wink. She rolled her eyes and followed Dumbledore to the first aid tent.

"If you'll excuse me, Miss Roth, I must attend to a few other things before the task begins. I enjoyed our little stroll," he told her.

"Of course, sir. I did as well," she smiled up at the headmaster before he swept away, his midnight robes billowing almost regally behind him.

It wasn't long before Sara heard the light thunder of footsteps as people were ushered into the stands. She thought for a moment she saw two heads of red hair, but they disappeared among the crowd too quickly to tell. The crowds were settled in now, and Madam Pomfrey came to stand next to Sara, wringing her hands nervously.

"Dragons… Unbelievable! Dragons! Why not just throw them into pits of fire, watch them wrestle their way out. Good lord," she murmured, more to herself than Sara.

Ludo Bagman stood with the judges, who were taking their seats now. Bagman raised his wand to his throat and began to speak, his voice magically magnified so the entire stadium of people could hear.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards. Are you ready to see something truly magnificent?" The crowd roared in response, and Bagman continued. "The task standing before our four champions is something the likes of which none of them has ever faced." A great roar that caused the entire crowd to jump in unison interrupted him. "Today, our champions discovered that they will each be facing a different breed of dragon. Their goal is to get past the dragon and collect a golden egg, which will be helpful for their success in the next task. Using their quick wit and skill, they will take on this arduous task, but worry not, there are trained dragon handlers waiting should the task prove insurmountable."

As if on cue, the handlers burst through a gap in the stands with a massive blue-grey beast with giant horns. It fought valiantly against the handlers until it saw a nest at the very center of the enclosure. The handlers lowered their wands and allowed the dragon to barrel toward the nest. It planted itself protectively over it, but not before Sara caught a flash of gold that she took to be the egg.

"And now, let us welcome our first champion, Mr. CEDRIC DIGGORY!"

The audience exploded with applause and Sara joined in. Just before he entered the enclosure, he passed the first aid tent. Sara called good luck to him as he passed. He turned to look at her, the expression on his face one of utmost horror; he was a sickly green.

From her spot at the tent's entrance, Sara stood nearly at the entrance to the enclosure—in fact, her seat was perhaps one of the best she could have asked for. As Cedric entered the stadium, the dragon spotted him and braced herself. Neither Cedric nor the dragon moved for a moment, both staring one another down. Finally, the dragon reared her head back and shot a spurt of fire in Cedric's direction. He took off running and the dragon's head followed. Over and over again, he outmaneuvered the dragon's flames, each time earning a unison gasp from the crowd. Sara had her hand clapped over her mouth to keep from screaming. Bagman's comments certainly didn't ease her mind.

"Boy, Diggory won't be able to outrun that dragon for much longer, he'll need to come up with a plan… Ooooh, narrow miss there, very narrow… "

Finally, Cedric pointed his wand at the ground and muttered something no one else could hear. His spell hit a rock below him, though he kept on running. In place of the rock now stood a Labrador retriever, yipping loudly at the dragon. The giant beast stopped following Cedric to look back and forth between the boy and the dog, which took off in the opposite direction as Cedric. His plan seemed to work, as the dragon turned to face the dog, leaving Cedric free to sprint toward the nest. He was almost there, strides from it, when the dragon noticed him. It had reared its ugly head back to blow flames at the dog when it decided to go after Cedric instead. The jet of fire shot toward Cedric, hitting him in the arm. But Cedric didn't stop; he kept running, sprinting, diving. He grabbed the egg and rolled out of the nest to an eruption of cheers. In seconds, the handlers were on the fields, their wands outstretched to stop the dragon from attacking him further. When the dragon was safely out of the way, Sara and Madam Pomfrey tore onto the field. Sara reached him first, leaning over him quickly. He smiled up at her.

"Don't look so worried," he scolded.

"Ohhhh, Cedric Diggory, do NOT tell me what to do," she growled.

He stood up and allowed her put an arm around him and lead him to the first aid tent. She plopped him down on one of the beds and helped him out of his shirt. His entire left arm was singed, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. The roar of the crowd told her that another champion had just made his (or her) way onto the field. She set to healing Cedric's arm, the faint blue light bathing his skin in a fluorescent glow.

"Not worried about me, were you Roth?" he asked with a playful lilt to his voice.

"Who would want to worry about you, boys-only?" she retorted, never tearing her eyes from his arm.

The healing took a considerable amount of time, and by the time she'd finished, the thunder of applause for the second champion _and_ the roar of cheers for the third champion had already sounded. She looked up at Cedric, who she saw was smiling down at her.

"Feel better?" she asked, patting the freshly healed arm gingerly.

"Loads," he replied.

"Why the bloody hell would you sign yourself up for this madness, Cedric?" Sara asked exasperatedly.

"You mean you didn't think I was good?" he asked sheepishly.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. Of course you were good! You outsmarted a _dragon_," she emphasized the word.

"So then I was alright?" he asked, leaning forward so his face was no more than inches from her own.

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks; she was sure she was turning an embarrassed shade of red. She pulled back from Cedric quickly as Madam Pomfrey bustled over. Soon, a roar of applause sounded, which meant the third champion had succeeded in capturing the egg.

"Oh no!" Sara exclaimed suddenly. "Have I missed Harry?"

"No, he's last," answered Cedric over Madam Pomfrey's tending.

Sara moved toward the mouth of the tent just as Krum stalked past. His dragon was already gone, and another one was being ushered in. This one was putting up quite the fight. It was very lizard-like—black and scaly with beady yellow eyes. Like the first dragon, as soon as it caught sight of the nest, it scampered toward it and crouched low, protecting the eggs below.

"And now," Bagman's voice bellowed over the crowd once more. "Our final—and youngest—champion. Facing off against the Hungarian Horntail (my does it look vicious), put your hands together for Mr. HARRY POTTER!"

An applause washed over the stands. Sara cheered loudly for Harry as he strode past the tent. He looked over and tried to smile at her, but it turned out to be more of a grimace. When he entered the enclosure, he stared at the dragon in much the same way that Cedric had, and his dragon stared back, it's eerie yellow eyes sizing him up. Then Harry raised his wand into the air and called out in a clear voice, _"Accio Firebolt!"_

Sara could hear it before she could see it—a slight whirring noise that seemed to be coming closer. Then Harry's broomstick zoomed past the tent and came to a halt beside him. The crowd exploded into cheering once more as he mounted the Firebolt.

"His broomstick!" Bagman shouted. "Ingenious! Unbelievable!

Harry took off from the ground and flew higher and higher until he was no more than a floating blob. He seemed to be surveying his situation. And then he dived. He seemed to anticipate what the dragon would do, pulling out of his dive just as the Horntail shot a jet of fire where he would have been.

"Great Scott, he can fly! Are you watching, Mr. Krum?" Bagman yelled.

He dipped back down again and the Horntail once more shot flames at him. He very narrowly missed them, but could not avoid its spiky tail as it came crashing toward him. It hit his shoulder, causing him to swerve. After this, he began to simply fly around the dragon and she kept her eyes on him, as if entranced. Finally, she let out a roar of frustration and opened her large, leathery wings. Like a lightning bolt, Harry shot toward the earth. The dragon didn't have time to react before Harry sped beneath her, seized the golden egg, and sped off to get a safe distance from her. The crowd seemed to erupt in cheering and applause as Harry clung to the egg with his uninjured arm. The handlers swarmed toward the furious dragon to subdue her. Harry landed near the enclosure where he met Professor McGonagall, Moody, and Hagrid. Sara ran toward them just as McGonagall said, "Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please…"

"Harry!" Sara called.

He turned toward her, positively beaming. She hugged him, careful not to get his hurt arm.

"How was I?" he asked sheepishly as they headed toward the tent.

"Bloody brilliant!" she exclaimed.

Madam Pomfrey pulled him away to disinfect and heal his shoulder, muttering about dragons and dementors. Sara rolled her eyes, checked once more on Cedric, and headed out of the tent to find Fred and George. She was looking around trying to spot them when she heard a voice in her ear.

"I haven't thanked you properly."

She jumped and spun to see Charlie Weasley still crouched over where she had just been.

"Lord, you scared me!" she exclaimed. "Thanked me for what?"

"For healing me earlier. I didn't really get to thank you properly," he replied.

"Oh, sure, it was nothing! You were a cinch compared to Cedric," she waved him off.

"So, a pretty lady like you, got yourself a boyfriend?" he asked cheekily.

"Ah-" she stuttered.

"Don't even think about it," a pair of voices said behind her.

She turned to find Fred and George just behind her, flanking her on both sides. She laughed and turned back to Charlie.

"The fates have spoken," she shrugged.

"Well they can't just keep you all to themselves," he chided.

"She's fifteen," the twins said together.

"Come see me in two years then," he winked at Sara before striding away and laughing.

"He seems nice," she chuckled.

"Hasn't changed, that's for sure," Fred rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, wasn't Harry amazing?" she changed the subject quickly.

"Yeah, he was the best by far," George said.

"I only got to see him and Cedric. Tell me about Fleur and Krum," she said as she linked arms with them and began heading back to the castle.

They launched into a very detailed explanation. Fleur had apparently charmed the dragon to sleep in order to collect her egg—though it had snored in its sleep and shot flames at her, lighting her skirt on fire. Krum, on the other hand, had tried to jinx the dragon. He hit it right in the eye and sent it stumbling away from the nest—but he'd also caused the dragon to trample on the real eggs. Apparently, Krum and Harry were tied for first place, then Cedric and Fleur.

"Where are we going?" Sara asked as they headed for the stairs leading down to the basement rather than up to Gryffindor tower.

"Lee's already up there getting it decorated. We're in charge of getting food," George explained.

"Gotcha," Sara nodded.

They wandered down to the picture of the fruit that lead to the kitchens. Fred tickled the pear that turned into a door handle. The moment the picture opened, Sara heard the bustling of many elves at work. They stepped inside and were greeted by a familiar face.

"Masters Weasley, Miss Roth!" Dobby exclaimed excitedly.

"Hello there, Dobby!" Fred said cheerily.

"How has Harry Potter fared in the tournament?" he asked excitedly.

"Spectacularly," Sara replied. "He had to take on a dragon today!"

"How wonderful!" Dobby cried.

"Anyway Dobby, I don't know if you heard, but we're throwing Harry a little party, and-" Fred began.

"Of course! Food! Food! If you'd wait just a short moment, I'll bring it out!"

Dobby clambered back into the cooking area, leaving Sara and the twins in the large empty room that held the house tables. It was upon these tables that the elves placed the food; it magically appeared on the house tables in the Great Hall upstairs.

"He really is a nice elf," George noted.

"He always cleans the Gryffindor common room. I've seen him there late at night before. I think he's my favorite," Sara said.

Moments later, Dobby bustled back into the room with another elf, his arms laden with bags of sweets, crisps, and bottles of butterbeer and pumpkin juice.

"Will this be enough?" he asked, handing off a few of the bags to Fred.

"We'll be able to eat for days," Fred laughed.

"If you need more, just call for Dobby and Dobby will bring more," he insisted with a slight bow.

They returned to the Gryffindor common room, their arms laden with bags of food. Lee had draped the room in scarlet and gold streamers. Dean Thomas was in the process of drawing a banner of Harry zooming around on his broomstick. Sara, Fred, and George dumped their bags onto the table set aside for the food and began to unpack them. It was a moment before Sara realized she and George were the only ones unpacking the food; Fred was nowhere in sight.

"Where did he go?" Sara asked.

"Dunno," George replied, but he couldn't hide his smirk fast enough.

"George Fabian-" she started.

"He's just getting something from upstairs!" George laughed.

She glared at him suspiciously, but returned to her work. She didn't notice right away when Fred returned, and when she finally did he didn't have anything in his hands. They finished setting up as the rest of Gryffindor house came trickling in. When an explosion of cheering erupted near the portrait hole, Lee let off some Filibuster's Fireworks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione came tottering in looking very bashful under the attention. Food was served and Harry's golden egg was passed around.

"Blimey, this is heavy," Lee said when it had been passed to him. "Open it, Harry, go on! Let's see what's inside it!"

"Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!" rang through the room.

Harry took it back and pried it open. A horrifying screech rang through the common room, as if he had opened up a banshee's voice box. Everyone covered their ears, and Harry looked mortified.

"Shut it!" shouted Fred, almost inaudibly.

He shut the egg with a clap. A collective sigh sounded through the common room. There were many suggestions as to what it could have meant—Seamus suggested getting past a banshee, Neville believed it was someone being tortured, and George suggested that it sounded like Percy in the shower.

George was settled on one of the armchairs, and Sara was perched on the arm of it. She hit his shoulder, but laughed all the same. Fred offered Hermione a jam tart, and she asked him if he'd gotten it from the kitchens and how to get down there.

"Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you? Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try to stir them up into rebellion?" George asked cheekily.

Sara hit him again and scowled at him. He smirked and pulled her down onto his lap, tickling her mercilessly. She cried out with laughter, writhing to try and get away from his grasp. They were distracted, however, when with a pop, Neville turned into a large canary. From her seat on George's lap, she could see Fred laughing hysterically.

"Sorry, Neville! I forgot—it was the custard creams we hexed!" he called.

"That's what he was getting when he went upstairs?" Sara shouted, hitting George again.

However, in a matter of moments, Neville lost his feathers and began to laugh as well.

"Canary Creams!" Fred called to the crowd. "George and I invented them—seven Sickels each, a bargain!"

George laughed, and Sara merely rolled her eyes. She settled back against George and watched the crowd observe the effects of a custard cream on Dean Thomas. George was suddenly very aware of how close they were, and how comfortable she was. She leaned back against him and stifled a yawn. He wrapped his arms around her middle before he could stop himself—though she didn't seem to mind. It just felt so right having her this close to him. He couldn't help but wonder if she felt it too.


	13. Boys

"Students, if you'll pay attention," McGonagall attempted to retrieve the attention of her fifth-year class. "The Yule Ball is quickly approaching. It is a facet of the Triwizard tournament that is meant to be a bit more fun, though still civilized of course. It is open to fourth years and above. Boys will be required to wear dress robes, and girls will wear dresses. It will take place on Christmas Day from eight o'clock to midnight. You will also be required to uphold the standards of this school and not embarrass the Hogwarts name," she explained.

The bell rang and the students left the class in an excited fervor. Katie was suddenly at Sara's side.

"Hans already asked me to the ball!" she squealed.

"Katie, that's wonderful!" Sara exclaimed, hugging her friend.

"So, which boy do you think is going to ask you?" Katie wondered aloud as they made their way to the Great Hall.

"I probably won't even get asked," Sara sighed.

"Bull shit," Katie said bluntly. "You've got Ivan hanging off of your every word, Cedric seems to have a little thing for you, and don't even get me started on George."

"George?" Sara repeated, coming to a complete halt.

Katie continued a few steps before she realized that Sara was no longer at her side. She turned to look incredulously at her stunned friend.

"Come off it, are you serious?" Katie marveled.

"Serious about _what_? George?" she cried.

"Shhhh! What are you doing?" Katie exclaimed, trying to quiet Sara down. "You really can't tell that he likes you?"

"…George?" she repeated stupidly. "No… He… I mean… Really?"

"Just watch for it," Katie laughed. "Come on, I'm hungry."

Sara couldn't stop thinking about George during dinner. He wasn't there when they arrived, so Sara sat down next to Hermione and Katie plopped down next to Ron. Eventually Hans joined them, but Ivan was also nowhere to be found. Sara was eating so intently, she didn't hear the footsteps behind her.

"Excuse me, Sara, may I have a word?" Ivan's gruff voice spoke.

"Of course!" she smiled, looking up at him.

He extended his arm and helped her stand, but didn't let go. Instead, he lead her out of the Great Hall into the deserted hallway.

"What can I do for you?" she asked when they finally came to a stop.

"Well, I think you are very beautiful-" he began.

"You do?" she interrupted.

"Yes, very much. You do not?" he asked.

"I mean… I… Never mind, go on," she urged.

"Well, you are very beautiful, and I have been spending much time with you lately. I don't have to take any exams, you know. The top student in every class is exempt from exams at Durmstrang," he explained.

"Wait, you're the top student? And that's so not fair," she whined.

"My point was not to make you feel slighted," he chuckled. "I have no need to go into the library with you as often as I do. I try to make myself appear busy, but I really have very little to do."

"Then why do you go to the library with me? I wouldn't make you-" Sara tried.

"Because I like you, Sara," Ivan smiled.

"You… Like me?" she repeated

"Very much. And I was just wondering if you would like to accompany me to the Yule Ball."

Sara's eyes widened of their own accord. It took a lot of self-control to keep herself from dropping her jaw. Ivan laughed at the expression on her face.

"I… Well… I mean... Yes!" she exclaimed.

"Excellent," he sighed happily.

He reached out and took her hand in his, planting a soft kiss on the top of it. She blushed crimson as he took her arm and led her back into the Great Hall. She did not notice the redheaded twin just around the corner leaning against the wall. He scoffed and headed back to the common room. He dropped down onto the couch and buried his head in the cushions.

"Well, how'd it go, mate?" Fred asked from his seat in the armchair. "Can we go eat yet?"

"I was too late," George managed, his voice muffled by the cushions.

"What the hell do you mean 'too late?'" Fred asked, leaning forward.

"I was heading to the Great Hall when I heard her voice. I stopped and listened for a minute. And then Ivan asked her to go with him. And she said yes," George mumbled, sitting up.

"Oh… Yeah, I guess that's a little too late then," Fred mused. "Well, she doesn't even know you were going to ask her. Make everything seem normal. No big deal. We'll find you a girl, and you'll have fun. Not as much as if you went with her, but you'll have fun."

The twins headed down to the Great Hall and it took every ounce of George's strength to smile when he saw Sara sitting right next to Ivan. He sat on her other side and she talked as animatedly as she did any other night, joking about the Beauxbatons girls a few tables over and enjoying her food. George managed to eat without too much effort, though every time Ivan looked over at her he felt himself get angry. He excused himself early and returned to his dormitory, dropped down onto his bed, and stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

Katie left early to finish her Potions assignment, and soon Hans and Ivan had to return to their ship. Ivan kissed Sara's hand once more before heading out of the Great Hall. She sighed happily and headed back to the Gryffindor common room, but was jerked behind a curtain before she could make it all the way there. She looked up and laughed.

"I know you're trying to get out of the public eye, but this is a little extreme," she laughed.

"My adoring fans do not rest," Cedric said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, I wanted to get you alone."

"Alone?" she asked, suddenly a bit nervous. She had an inkling she knew why he wanted her alone.

"Yeah, well, you know the Yule Ball's coming up, and I was just wondering if maybe you would want to go with me," he asked.

"Oh, Cedric… I'm so sorry, but I've already told someone I'd go with them," she said, looking almost shamefully down at her hands.

"Oh, well that's alright. I suppose George beat me to the punch," he laughed.

"George?" she exclaimed, jerking her head up.

"Well, yeah, I mean I just figured-" he tried to explain.

"Look, George didn't ask me, and he won't ask me, okay? We're friends! People can't just keep assuming otherwise," Sara exclaimed.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. Really," Cedric conceded, his hands raised defensively.

"I know you didn't," Sara sighed. "I'm sorry, I just… Never mind. Sorry, Ced."

"It's fine, Sara. Don't worry about it," he smiled—the smile that caused his eyes to squint so much they were almost closed and the dimples in his cheeks to deepen.

"You know, I'm pretty sure Cho is one of your friends, right?" Sara asked. "She's in my year, and she seems to fancy you. Why don't you ask her to the ball?"

"Really? Cho likes me?" Cedric blushed a bit.

"You should ask her," Sara urged. "I have to get back, I've got some homework left. Let me know what she says though."

"I will. Thanks, Sara," Cedric smiled once more before Sara fled quickly from behind the curtain.

As she walked slowly back to the common room, Sara pondered why both Katie and Cedric assumed George would ask her to the ball. Of course she had a different relationship with him than she did with Fred, but that's because they're quite different individuals. Fred was always more brazen and a bit more brutal with his pranks. But George was sweet, a little bit quieter—but not in a really obvious way—and more innocent with his jokes. Sara considered herself closer to George than Fred, but that didn't mean that he liked her as anything more than a friend… Did it?

She climbed through the portrait hole and found Fred sitting alone on one of the stuffed armchairs.

"Where's George?" she asked, plopping down on the couch.

"Went up to bed," Fred said shortly, seemingly immersed in his project.

Sara padded up the stone staircase that led not to the girls' dormitories, but to the boys'. She knocked softly on the door that she knew was theirs. When no one answered, she pushed to door open. The room was considerably messier than her own. Clothes, books, and joke products littered the floor. George was lying in his bed with his eyes closed. She watched him for a minute before stepping back outside and closing the door.

"What am I doing?" she murmured, leaning against the door and closing her eyes.

After collecting her thoughts, she headed back to her own dormitory where she would spend the rest of the night overanalyzing the situation. She didn't notice George crack open his eyes and watch her leave.

The next evening at dinner, Ivan took his usual seat next to Sara. Fred and George sat across from them. Ivan was now shamelessly flirting with her—and why shouldn't he? He'd rightfully asked her to the ball and she'd said yes. George poked miserably at his food, though he tried not to let Sara see. Then came the question he'd dreaded.

"Fred, have you asked someone to the ball yet?" Sara asked as the dinner plates cleared.

"I was thinking I'd ask Angelina," he said, looking excitedly at the cake that had materialized before him.

"And what about you, George?"

Fred looked sideways over at George, who was taking his time sipping at his pumpkin juice.

"I've already asked someone," he replied.

Fred nearly dropped the cake he'd scooped off the tray. His look of incredulity toward George went unnoticed by Sara.

"Really? Who?" she asked.

"Oh, you don't know her," he shrugged.

"But-" she tried.

"It's a secret," he interrupted her.

She rolled her eyes and pulled a bowl of pudding toward her. Fred was afraid to stare too openly at George, so he waited until they were back in the common room. Sara had to roam the halls for her prefect duties, which left Fred and George alone in their room.

"There is no other girl, is there, mate?" Fred asked, pulling his sweater over his head.

"Was it that obvious?" George asked miserably.

"No, I just know she's the only one you really want to go with," Fred said at he shrugged out of the button-up shirt.

"Well, now she can go with the Russian prick and not worry about me having a date," George sighed.

"You could still find a girl, you know. Plenty of fish," Fred suggested.

"But only one Sara," George grumbled.

The next few weeks seemed to fly by. For Sara, time seemed to be going at least twice the normal rate. Her teachers had started pressuring her about O.W.L.s, which was causing her far too much stress, according to Fred.

"We only got three O.W.L.s apiece, and we're alright," Fred laughed.

"_You_ think you're alright. I think you two didn't try in the least!" Sara shouted.

Sara noticed that George was becoming slightly more standoffish toward her, and she didn't like it. She thought it might be because of this girl he'd asked to the ball. She found herself striving for his attention—which she would eventually get if she pestered hard enough. Still, it wasn't an enjoyable experience.

She awoke on Christmas day with a smile on her face. This was her day of no worries. She would open her presents, eat delicious food, and enjoy the Yule Ball. Just as she was sitting up, the door burst open and Katie bounded in.

"Fred and George want you to bring your presents to their room, they're waiting for you. And thanks for the calendar, I'm gonna put it up in here so we can enjoy it every morning," she smirked.

Sara had given her a daily calendar that, every new day, revealed a new (and shirtless) Quidditch player. She winked at Katie before collecting the rather large pile and tottering over to the boys' room. She pushed the door open without knocking and stumbled in, barely managing to drop her presents onto Lee's empty bed.

"Morning," Fred yawned.

He tossed a package onto her pile. George actually stood up to lay hers next to the pile.

"Merry Christmas," she said with a large smile.

"Merry Christmas," he replied, returning to his own stack of presents.

They began to tear into their gifts. Sara opened the gift from her dad first. It was a camera.

"Oh, yay!" she exclaimed. "Just in time, I can take some pictures at the ball!"

"Get some good shots of Ron," Fred chortled.

"In his frilly frock," George laughed.

Sara moved on to the gift from her godfather, a very worn book titled _Dealing with Strange Phobias_. He'd scribbled a note on the inside cover: _"Check page 76."_ She flipped to the page and found "Silence" as the heading. She laughed and hugged the book to her chest. He'd remembered that her boggart had not taken shape when it had flown out of the wardrobe, and instead had silenced the whole room. She set the book next to her camera and moved onto the gifts from Mrs. Weasley. She received her traditional sweater (this one with horizontal scarlet and gold stripes, her favorite to date), a pair of wool mittens, and a collection of cakes and pies. She popped one of the cakes into her mouth before moving on to Fred's gift.

"Sara, what are these for?" she heard Fred ask.

She looked up to see him wearing the scarlet and gold hat she'd bought him. He was also holding up four boxes of the Fill-It-Yourself candy. She smiled and looked over at George, who'd also opened his up.

"You can tell him," she laughed.

"Sara found them at Honeydukes. I didn't think they were anything great either, but Sara said we didn't just have to put the candy stuff in them. We can put anything we want in them. _Anything,_" George emphasized the last word.

"Imagine putting a bit of Babbling Beverage or Hiccuping Solution or some other nasty potion, then passing it off as candy?" Sara said, picking up the box from Fred.

"Thanks, by the way," George said, holding up the hat identical to Fred's as well as a package of self-inking quills.

"Hey, how come he got two things?" Fred yelled.

"What use would you have for quills? You never do your own work," she scolded, tossing Lee's pillow at him.

She pulled open the box that Fred had given her and found a few rolls of film inside. She looked up and saw him smiling at her.

"Your dad wrote us, told us you might be needing it," he winked.

"Thank you, Freddie," she smiled warmly, rising up off the bed and giving him a short hug before returning.

She held up George's box and shook it gently. She heard it rattle and excitedly ripped the paper off. She opened the box and found a necklace inside. It was a thin, dark grey/almost black chain. Near the center, small blue and black flowers started and grew toward one large blue and black flower at the center of the necklace. She looked up at George and saw him watching her. Fred was seemingly immersed in the candies Sara had given him.

"It's not anything great, if you don't like-" George started.

"George, stop. I love it," she interjected.

She rose from the bed again and moved toward him. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and squeezed. He hugged back, his long arms encircling her and making her feel safe—as they always did. She leaned back and kissed him softly on the cheek before returning to Lee's bed. She missed the blush that spread over his face as she looked down and admired her necklace. Fred sniggered silently at George's expression.

Sara returned to Lee's bed and found a large box left. A card on the box showed a fancy scrawl that read _"Sara Emmeline Roth"_ with no other decorations or markings. She pulled open the box and found three smaller gifts in three smaller boxes.

"Is this one of your practical jokes?" she laughed, looking up at the twins.

However, she could immediately tell by their expressions that these gifts were not from them. They both moved to the ends of their own beds for a better look.

"Does it say who it's from?" Fred asked.

"No, it just says my name," she replied, looking down at the boxes.

She pulled the larger square one out first and gingerly opened it. A soft gasp emitted from her lips. George jumped up from his bed, afraid it was something dangerous. But Sara merely pulled an old silver teakettle out of the box.

"A kettle?" Fred asked.

"There's a crest on it… It says _"Toujours Pur_… It's so weird… I love it," she smiled, running afinger over the completely untarnished silver.

"It looks ancient," George said as Sara handed it to him.

"It does," she mumbled, pulling out a second box.

This package held a book. It looked relatively new compared to the kettle. It was titled _A Genealogy of Healing_ and seemed to be warm to her touch. She passed the book to George just as she had the kettle.

"Bloody hell," he murmured.

"What?" Sara asked as the reached for the third package.

"It's so cold… It's weird," he said.

"Cold?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah… Didn't you feel it?"

"It felt so warm to me," she said.

She pulled open the third box and gasped once more. It was a bracelet—the most ornate bracelet she had ever seen. It was gold, about three inches in width, with strange designs cut out of the gold. It was inlaid with 7 large sapphire gemstones and clasped together at the bottom. She lifted it from the box and slipped it onto her wrist; it fit perfectly.

"Blimey," Fred said softly, scampering over to get a better look.

"Who do you reckon…" George wondered aloud.

"I've no idea," Sara replied, staring down at the ostentatious bracelet.

After staring down at it for a moment, she slipped the bracelet from her wrist and placed it back in the box, then put the book and the teapot back into the bigger box as well.

"No one would just send me this stuff for no reason," she stared down at the boxes.

"Maybe there's a reason, then," George suggested.

"But that reason is not to be discovered on Christmas day," Fred announced. "So come on, take this stuff back to your room and meet us in the common room. I'm starved."

The day was fun, as anticipated. At breakfast, they ate too much and returned to Gryffindor tower full and happy. They lounged on the couches until Fred and George suggested a snowball fight. Sara and Hermione traipsed out to the grounds and watched Harry and the Weasleys divide into teams and pelt snow at one another.

"Excited?" Sara asked, looking over at Hermione.

"I'm a little nervous," Hermione admitted; Sara couldn't tell whether the pink that dusted her cheeks was from the cold or something else.

"Don't be. He likes you, I can tell. He hangs around the library just to look at you, Hermione," Sara reminded her.

"I know, but… What if all the girls think I'm going with him just because he's some famous Quidditch player?" she asked.

"Then you let them think that. It's because they're all just jealous he didn't ask them," Sara winked.

At five, Hermione, Sara, and Ginny headed upstairs to get ready. There was straightening and curling of hair, makeup put on and taken off and put on again, and dresses carefully pulled on so as not to disturb the hair and makeup. Sara admired herself in the mirror for a moment. She'd magically curled her hair and pulled some of it back into a loose bun. She'd left some down to hang in tendrils around her face. It might have looked sloppy on another girl, but it looked perfect on her. Her makeup was perfect too, not too much, but enough to make her look classy. Her dress was the real ticket. It was a dark blue, strapless dress that went down to her knees. It was sinched at the waist and flowed outward down her legs. She was showing cleavage, but not enough that she looked trampish. She'd tied a black satin bow around the sinched section for a bit of definition. She'd put on a pair of short black heels to top it off. She couldn't help but smile at her reflection.

"Wow, you look amazing," Ginny praised.

"Thanks," she sighed happily.

She was just clasping her necklace from George around her neck when she gasped. Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin, but Sara didn't notice. She dove into her trunk and reappeared with the box containing the bracelet in her hand. She pulled the bracelet out and both Ginny and Hermione gasped nearly as loud as Sara had.

"Wow," Ginny cooed.

"Sara, it's beautiful!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I wish I knew where it came from," she muttered, slipping it back on one more. It seemed to complete the outfit

Hermione ducked out at about 7:35 to avoid running into Ron and Harry before the ball. Sara helped Ginny into her dress and the two traipsed downstairs.

George stood with Fred in the middle of the common room. He and Fred were too tall to wear any of the dress robes they'd inherited from relatives, so theirs were plain black with no lace or collars. Fred was scanning the crowd for Angelina. George looked like he'd rather climb under his blankets and never come out. He saw Ginny fly down the stairs and saw a pair of legs appear around the spiral staircase. The legs gave way to the most magnificent sight George had ever seen. To him, Sara was perfection embodied. He was glad she didn't spot him right away, because he was gawking almost creepily. Fred had to close his mouth for him.

"Keep it together, mate," he muttered to George just as Sara caught sight of them.

She made her way over to them through the crowds and smiled up at them. Her heels made her a slight bit taller, but she still only came up to about their chests.

"How do I look?" she asked, spinning around to give them a good look.

George had to hold his tongue. The words breathtaking, sexy, tantalizing and arousing all sprang into his head. He didn't hear what Fred said. She turned to look at him with those large emerald eyes and he tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Amazing," he managed.

"Thanks," she blushed. "I should go find Ivan. But I want to find you both for pictures, okay?" she asked as she held up her camera.

They both nodded and she scurried away. George sighed shakily and buried his face in his hands. Fred looked concernedly at him.

"Are you gonna be okay?" he asked.

"I hope so," he muttered, the sound muffled by his hands.


	14. Yule Ball

Sara flitted down to the Great Hall and stood at the top of the marble steps, searching for Ivan among the sea of boys and girls. The Durmstrang boys were dressed in red robes, so it wasn't too hard to pick them out. Finally, Ivan appeared at the bottom of the staircase. She smiled down at him and descended the stairs, stopping on the last one.

"You are… Beautiful," he muttered, taking her hand and kissing it gingerly.

"Thank you," she blushed.

Sara took Ivan's arm as he led her through the crowd. Ivan seemed to part the crowds as they walked—Sara had the fleeting thought that he might have been neck and neck with Krum for the Triwizard Tournament. He had a commanding air about him that others seemed to respect. They stopped just behind a blond head that Sara recognized, even from the back. Draco's hair was slicked back and he wore black velvet robes with a high collar. Pansy Parkinson was hooked onto his right arm and wearing a disgusting frilly pink dress. She was laughing shrilly at something Draco had said (something that was assuredly not funny). Ivan cringed and looked over at Sara with an incredulous expression.

"Don't mind her, she's only got one volume," Sara murmured, just loud enough for them to hear.

Ivan laughed, a resonant chuckle that made Sara laugh along with him. Pansy looked indignant. She scoffed and glared darkly at Sara, who instead smiled cordially at her. Sara thought she saw the ghost of a smirk cross Draco's face as he turned away from them. Pansy looked hopefully at Draco, as if he might jump to her aid, but he did nothing of the sort.

At that moment, the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open and the students began to file in. Sara passed Hermione, who was standing with Krum. She gave Hermione an encouraging smile and a wink as they passed. She smiled warmly at Cedric, who waved energetically at her, and also at Harry, who looked as if he'd rather be anywhere but next to the lovely Patil sister.

The Great Hall looked like an entirely different room when they entered. The walls were covered in a gleaming frost; icicles dangled from the ceiling, magically enhanced so they wouldn't fall on any unsuspecting heads. There were at least a hundred smaller tables in place of the four house tables, all of which were quickly filling up with people.

"Hans and your friend Katie are over there, shall we sit with them?" Ivan asked.

Sara looked over and saw Katie waving to them. She was dressed in a red gown that hung to her ankles. Her dark hair was loose for perhaps the first time ever, spilling elegantly down her back. Sara and Ivan moved toward them and took their seats around the table. Ivan pulled out her chair for her, and Sara smiled up at him. As he took his own seat, Katie winked at Sara who merely rolled her eyes. Their table gradually filled up with a few other Durmstrang boys and their dates. The chatter was very mild as the champions marched up to the head table and took their seats. Sara peered around the room for Fred and George and saw two sets of red hair at a table across the hall. She had wished they'd been able to sit at the same table, but there was nothing to be done now.

"Looking for your lover?" Katie whispered as Sara settled back into her seat.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Sara asked with mock pleasantry. "No? I thought not."

"Just because he didn't ask doesn't mean he didn't want to," Katie shrugged.

Sara picked up a menu from the table and looked down intently at it, very much trying to ignore Katie's words. Someone at the next table had spoken their order into their plate, so Sara did the same. Steaming piles of roast turkey, mashed potatoes, and corn appeared on her plate. She silently thanked the house elves below before tucking into her dinner. Sara glanced up at the head table and noticed Karkaroff's hand on Viktor's shoulder, his booming voice reaching their table as he spoke.

"You know," she mused, "Karkaroff seems to invest a lot of his energy in Krum and very little on anyone else."

The faces of the boys around the table darkened slightly. Ivan sighed heavily.

"It is something that bothers all of us as well," he noted. "He chooses his favorites, and Krum is an obvious choice."

"It's maddening," Hans grunted.

"It's not as if we have anything against Krum," another one of the boys added hastily. "He's just… He's not really the cock of the walk like Professor Karkaroff thinks he is."

"He should be paying more attention to Ivan," another boy suggested.

"I don't think-" Ivan tried.

"No, Gunther is right. You're the top of our year. You probably know magic Karkaroff can't even do, and yet he grovels to Krum because he's famous," Hans interrupted.

"I'm sorry, I should've realized it was a sore spot," Sara conceded.

"Do not apologize," all four voices spoke at once.

"It is a bit of a touchy issue, but nothing that we feel we cannot speak of," Ivan smiled warmly.

When the golden plates disappeared, Dumbledore stood and magicked the tables against the wall, leaving room for a dance floor and a large stage. The Weird Sisters made their way on stage to the cheers of the crowd. Sara had heard a few of their songs before, so she cheered accordingly. The champions and their dates trooped onto the floor and began to dance to a slow song. Cedric was smiling happily at Cho, who was blushing a bit under his gaze. Hermione and Krum were laughing about something. Fleur's date was practically drooling over her. Only Harry looked uncomfortable as Parvati led him around the dance floor.

"Shall we join them?" Ivan asked as he stood up and held his hand out to her.

Sara took his arm and allowed him to lead her out onto the dance floor. He slid his arm around her waist and spun her to the music. She smiled up at him. He was a very good dancer, and they moved very well together, but there was still something strange that Sara couldn't put her finger on. The song eventually turned into a fast one, and Sara noticed a few people breaking off for pictures.

"Will you come with me?" she asked, pulling him through the crowd anyway.

She returned to the table and grabbed her camera, immediately setting out for the set of redheads she saw just through the crowd.

George was miserable, there was simply no other word for it. Sara and Ivan had been in his line of vision all throughout dinner. He had a clear view of the talking, laughing, and flirting for the entirety of the meal. Meanwhile, Fred was flirting with Angelina and seemingly ignorant to his twin's suffering. The Hufflepuff next to George seemed to sense his discomfort and had only succeeded in making it worse as she tried to suggest that they couple up for the dance. He brushed her off most uncouthly when Ivan had pulled Sara onto the dance floor, causing her to run away crying. He'd spent the first song sulking until Fred and Angelina dragged him onto the dance floor.

"You can't just sit around and brood," Fred scolded him as he and Angelina stopped him from returning to his seat.

"And why not?" George grunted.

"Because she's coming this way."

George didn't dare look behind him, and instead started to move to the music, as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself. If Sara saw him brooding, she would worry about him, and he didn't want to upset her.

"George?"

He turned and saw her looking up at him, a large grin spread over her face. If it was possible, she looked even more beautiful than he remembered. Her heels did very little to increase her stature. He felt all of his anger dissipate when her smile widened.

"Having fun?" he asked.

"Of course!" she exclaimed.

"What can we do for you?" Fred asked, a bit breathless.

"Well, I'd like a picture," Sara said, holding up her camera. "Ivan, would you take a couple for me?"

"Of course," he replied, taking the camera from her.

Sara pulled Fred and George on either side of her. They each wrapped an arm around her and were momentarily blinded by the flash.

"Alright, now just Fred," she commanded.

George stepped back and allowed Fred and Sara to be in the shot. Sara wrapped both arms around Fred's middle and laid her head on his shoulder. He, in turn, put an arm around her and gave a very sultry expression. The flash blinded them again.

"And now just George."

Fred stepped away and Sara pulled George back up to her side. She wrapped her arms around him as well and smiled up at him. He returned the smile and the camera flashed once more.

"Thank you," she said, leaning up on her tiptoes and kissing him softly on the cheek.

"Sure," he replied as she walked away.

He watched her disappear through the crowd again, wishing more than anything that she would turn around and run back to him. But he knew that would never happen. He sighed heavily and turned back to Fred and Angelina. They were looking at him with such pity, it almost made him angry. Almost.

"I'm gonna go," he muttered.

"George-" they both started.

"No, I really am gonna go. But thanks for letting me keep you company," he said as he turned and headed out of the Great Hall.

Sara and Ivan danced for hours, stopping occasionally for drinks or to dance with other people before returning to one another. Neither could believe it when the clock struck midnight.

"It cannot be time already," he said, pulling out his pocket watch and checking it for good measure.

"I suppose it is," Sara sighed.

"May I walk you to your house?" Ivan asked.

"Actually, I have to stay down here and make sure everyone heads off to their own houses. Prefect duties, you know," she shrugged.

"Then I will say goodnight here," he said, taking her hand and kissing it softly. "Goodnight, my princess."

"Goodnight, Ivan," she blushed slightly as he headed out to the entrance hall, following his Durmstrang friends back to their ship.

Sara found herself saying the words "Move along now" so often that they started to lose their meaning. The other prefects seemed as exhausted as she did, and were subsequently snippier with those who chose to dillydally. Sara was probably the most cheerful of them all, still elated from her eventful evening. When the last of the students were gone from the Great Hall and its surrounding corridors, the prefects were sent off to bed.

Sara fluttered into the Gryffindor common room long after midnight. The embers in the fire cast a dim glow upon the room. She kicked off her heels and scooped them up into her hand. Her camera was tucked neatly under her other arm, and though she wasn't tired, she was prepared to head up to bed.

"Hey," a voice from the couch spoke.

Sara leaped nearly a foot into the air and yelped, jerking her head in the direction of the voice.

"Merlin, George. You scared me," she breathed.

"Sorry," he muttered.

In the dim light, she saw that he had changed out of his dress robes and was instead wearing a pair of corduroy pants and a sweater—one of her favorite sweaters, to be precise.

"I looked for you all night, but I couldn't find you," she told him, dropping her shoes and camera onto the coffee table.

"Yeah, I… Headed back early," he explained.

"Oh? Why?" she asked.

"I guess I just didn't really feel like staying," he shrugged.

"I danced with Fred earlier, and I kept my eye out for you. I wanted to dance with you too," she confessed.

"That would've been fun," he agreed.

Sara looked over at him in the near darkness and suddenly had an idea. She walked silently over to him and extended her hand. He looked questioningly at it, then up at her.

"It can still be fun," she suggested.

"Well… I mean… There's no music or anything," he stammered.

"We don't need it," she laughed.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. She pulled his other arm around her waist and then laid her own on his shoulder. Their feet began to move and they danced to a silent song. Their movements were very natural with one another, despite the almost awkward height difference. She looked up at him and smiled warmly. All the anger he'd been feeling melted away at her smile.

"Did you have fun?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded. "Did you?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied.

"You still never told me who you went with," she remembered.

"It doesn't matter," he shook his head.

"It most certainly does," Sara countered. "Was she a Beauxbatons bimbo?"

"That's nice," he laughed.

"So then… That's a yes?"

"No," he corrected. Still they moved to the unheard music.

"So, she's-" Sara stared.

"Look, it doesn't matter!" George interrupted.

"Well why doesn't it-"

"Because I didn't go with anyone!" he exclaimed.

They stopped dancing. Sara looked up at him with a confused look on her face. George was looking away, staring fixedly at the fireplace behind her.

"Then why did you tell me that you had a date? Why didn't you tell me the truth?" she asked.

"I don't know," he muttered after a short silence.

"So… You went alone?"

He nodded, his mouth setting into a hard line.

"You should've just told me," Sara sighed.

"Wouldn't have done any good," George shrugged.

"And why not?" Sara demanded.

"The girl I wanted to go with already had a date," he confessed.

"George, who did you want to go with?" she asked.

He turned his gaze toward her until finally his chocolate brown eyes met her emerald ones. The intensity of his stare was something she wasn't used to. She felt his fingers brush one of the stray tendrils of hair away from her face. A small gasp escaped from her lips at the realization: George _had _wanted to ask her. She didn't realize he was leaning forward until his nose touched her own. His hand cupped the side of her face delicately, and he pressed his lips softly to hers. The kiss was gentle, and Sara felt her eyes close as she responded tentatively to his lips. He very reluctantly pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, afraid to open his eyes and see her expression.

"Merry Christmas, Sara," he murmured, kissing her forehead lightly before quickly pulling back and heading up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

Sara remained standing in the same position for at least a minute. She opened her eyes and watched him disappear up the spiral staircase. Her head was spinning—partly from the kiss, and partly from confusion.

"WHAT?" she shouted exasperatedly after the long-gone George.

She picked up her camera and shoes off the table and pounded up the stairs to her dormitory. She threw open the door and was surprised to find Katie and Alicia (who was staying in their room since Leanne and Beth were both gone) both awake. She threw her shoes and camera onto the bed and dropped onto it in a very dramatic manner.

"What's got your knickers in a knot?" Alicia laughed.

"You and Ivan seemed to be enjoying yourself at the dance. Did he do something? Should we beat him up?" Katie asked, cracking her knuckles for emphasis.

"No, Ivan was a complete gentleman. Kissed my hand and bade me goodnight promptly at midnight. We might need to mess up George a little though," she huffed, beginning to take the endless amount of pins out of her hair.

"George? What on earth did George do?" Katie asked, suddenly very interested. "Did he try to beat up Ivan or something?"

"No. Apparently he never had a date for the ball because he _did _want to take me. And he was down in the common room when I got back, and we talked, and then he _kissed _me! And the worst of it is he just went up to bed, didn't say a word!" Sara exclaimed, slamming her fists onto the bed.

"I KNEW IT!" Katie shouted triumphantly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don't know what to do about this!" Sara cried, throwing a pillow at her friend's head.

"Well, do you want to go out with him?" Alicia asked.

"I… I don't know," Sara confessed sheepishly.

"You don't know?" Katie repeated, sounding like she'd just chewed on something awful. "You're best friends!"

"That's the problem! What if something happened and we didn't work out? I would absolutely die if I lost him…" Sara reasoned.

"I don't think that's a good reason to turn him down," Alicia shook her head.

"I don't even know if he wants to date me! He just wanted to ask me to the ball!"

"Yeah, and follows you around like his life is dependent on it," Katie added, "watches you out of the corner of his eye when he thinks no one's looking, talks about you like you can do no wrong, and-"

"Alright, alright!" Sara stopped her. "Tell me what to do!"

"I can't tell you what you want, love. You have to find that out for yourself," Katie said.

"What I want…" Sara murmured.

Alicia and Katie soon fell asleep, which left Sara alone with her thoughts. The twins had been her best friends since she was eleven years old. She'd naturally gravitated toward George without trying—he was somewhat quieter, but Sara believed he was naturally kinder than Fred. During her third year, she told George she'd never kissed anyone before, and he said he hadn't either; they decided it was only logical to kiss each other. They had shared so much with one another, and thinking back on it now, feelings deeper than friendship seemed almost inevitable. But what she wanted was entirely unclear. She had the nagging fear that something would happen between them but it wouldn't work out, which meant she would lose both George and Fred as friends. Weighing these risks in her mind made her groggy, and she fell asleep still in her dress.


	15. George

She awoke the nest morning as she often did—to the light shining in through the windows and the dormitory empty. It was late morning, she knew that much. She sat up and stretched her arms lazily over her head. When the night before came rushing back to her, she groaned and fell back onto the pillow. After running the various scenarios through her mind for nearly 20 minutes, she finally got up and wandered into the bathroom. She emerged freshly showered and dressed before staggering down the spiral staircase to the common room. Fred sat alone on one of the plush armchairs tinkering with one of his new projects. He looked up only when Sara stopped right in front of him. An enormous smile crossed his face.

"Hey," he smirked.

"Don't you 'hey' me. What the hell?" she demanded, glaring down at the redhead.

"I think you should be asking that to the other me," he advised.

"No, I'm asking you. I'm sure you're much more enlightened than I am, since he'll actually talk to you. So what the hell?" she asked again.

"Well, you'll need to expand upon that idea just a bit," Fred chuckled.

"If he wanted to so badly, why didn't he ask me to the ball?" she asked, sitting down on the arm of the chair.

"He fully intended to, but he missed the opportunity. Ivan asked you first," Fred explained.

"Why didn't he ask someone else then? There are so many other girls who would have-" Sara started.

"Ah, but he didn't want to take the other girls. Just you," Fred interrupted.

"But… But why?" Sara asked lamely.

"Sara, he likes you," Fred laughed.

"No…" she shook her head. "He… I mean…"

"Deny it all you want, but I only know what he tells me," Fred shrugged.

"But… Why would George like _me_?" she asked, staring intently at a ripped seam in the armchair.

"Give yourself a little credit, love," Fred laughed.

"What?" she asked, snapping her eyes toward Fred.

"You've got half the guys in school fawning over you," he said, looking up at her with an amused expression. "Hell, _Charlie _hit on you! You're quite the catch. I think George might be a little intimidated by the competition."

"A catch?" she repeated incredulously.

"Fine, don't believe me," he raised his hands in mock defeat. "George does like you though, that's a fact. So what do you think?"

Sara's face flushed under Fred's gaze. She looked away, and he chuckled.

"I… I don't know," she said for what felt like the tenth time.

"Well, do you like him?" Fred queried.

"Well sure, I mean, he's George, what's not to like? I just… What if it doesn't work out?" she said, looking imploringly at Fred.

"I think that's a bridge you cross when you get to it," Fred advised.

Sara sighed heavily, and Fred patted her arm sympathetically. She went down to the Great Hall and found that she'd missed breakfast. She was too hungry to wait for lunch, so she headed down to the basement toward the kitchens. She stopped in front of the portrait of the fruit and tickled the pear, grabbed the handle, and stepped into the room. It was louder than when she, Fred, and George had visited it during the night. She was immediately greeted by a familiar face.

"Good afternoon, Miss Roth!" Dobby exclaimed.

"Afternoon, Dobby," she smiled at the house elf who'd so often cleaned the Gryffindor common room. "Say, I've missed breakfast, do you think I could just get a spot to eat? You know, to tide me over until lunch?"

"Of course, Miss Roth! Dobby would be delighted!" he cried, disappearing around the corner.

Sara took a seat at one of the small tables in the corner. Dobby brought her enough bacon, eggs, toast, and fruit to provide for herself and the twins twice. She ate happily and chatted with Dobby—who she learned had been taking Hermione's hats, scarves, and socks that she'd been leaving for S.P.E.W. She thanked him repeatedly before heading back up to the main floor. Just outside the Great Hall, a flash of red hair caught her eye, and she noticed it disappear down one of the hallways. She followed at a quick clip and saw the redheaded figure wander out one of the side doors. Sara stumbled out the door after him and immediately slipped on the ice. She cried out as she fell toward the ground, closing her eyes and bracing herself for impact. When it never came, she opened her eyes tentatively.

"Those don't look like proper winter shoes," George teased as he lifted her up into a standing position, looking down at her flats with a grin.

He slid his coat off and draped it over her shoulders before pulling her along the ice. She held tightly to his hands, afraid to fall again. George chuckled at her nervous expression; he was very sure-footed on the ice and had on his good winter boots. Sara's fear soon evaporated, and she found herself enjoying their little ice skating session. They slowed as they neared a small line of benches and an evil smile crossed George's face.

"What are you going- AHHHHH!" she cried out.

George let her go and pushed her down on one of the benches before skating away from her. They were alone in the small courtyard that had been flooded to resemble an ice skating rink. Most students were inside, recovering from their long night of dancing. When George passed her, she glared at him and he laughed.

"Following me, Sara?" he asked, spinning around and skating backwards so that he could watch her.

"We need to talk," she said.

"This sounds serious," he replied gravely.

"Oh, just a touch," she said with a mock airiness.

"So, talk," he urged, flipping so he was facing forward again.

"Alright, _you_ need to talk," she corrected.

"About?"

"George Fabian Weasley-" she began.

He skidded to a stop in front of her and leaned down, his face close to hers. His smile was teasing. She gasped softly before glaring at him again.

"This isn't fair," she complained.

She pulled her feet up onto the bench and stood up on top of it, making her a few inches taller than him. With her hands planted firmly on her hips and her glare unwavering, George was momentarily reminded of his mother. He let out a laugh as he took in her appearance.

"Height advantage?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Intimidation factor."

"Ah."

He stared up at her, an amused expression on his face. She looked down at him, searching for the words.

"George, do you… Like me?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation.

"Oh," she said lamely.

"I think I may have made that clear last night," he suggested.

"No, you kissed me and walked away last night! If anything, you confused me!" Sara exclaimed.

"Sara, there are other guys at this school who like you. I don't know if I can compete with them. They're smarter than me, come from better families, and can give you more than I can. You deserve better. So forget about last night. I'm sorry," he said.

He turned away and skated back toward the door. Sara's face contorted angrily.

"YOU'RE SO STUPID!" she yelled after him. He stopped at the door, his hand resting on the handle, but he made no move to open it. "Have I ever done anything to make you believe that I'm the sort of girl who cares about brains or money? Ivan and Cedric are my friends; I went to the ball with Ivan because he was the first to ask… George, you're my _best_ friend, you always have been—even more than Fred! I like you George, and I don't _want_ to forget about that kiss. But I… I'm afraid to lose you. What if something happens? I don't know what I'd do if…"

George spun around and skated toward her. He stopped just in front of her and pulled her toward him. His lips crushed against hers fervently. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip and she allowed him in. When he swept his tongue over her own, she whimpered softly. One of her fingers tangled in his hair, while the other gripped his shirtfront. When she finally had to pull away for air, he laid his forehead against hers just as he had the night before.

"Sara Emmeline Roth, you will never, ever lose me. That is a promise," he vowed.

"Tell me exactly what you want from me," she ordered.

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "I want you to be my girlfriend. I want you to hang on my arm and make the other guys jealous. I want you to worry about me more than everyone else during a Quidditch match. I want to be able to kiss you," he emphasized this with a small peck on the tip of her nose, "every day. I want to tell mum and dad about my amazing girlfriend. I want… You."

"I think we might be able to arrange that," she replied. "Now ask me properly."

"Sara Emmeline Roth, would you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?" George asked, looking into her emerald eyes.

"This is such a surprise," she teased. "I'd like nothing more."

A large grin overtook George's face. He planted another kiss on Sara's lips before sweeping her up into his arms. She let out a yelp and wrapped her arms around his neck. He skated around the courtyard with her, positively elated.

"George Fabian Weasley, if you drop me-" Sara threatened.

"I'm never letting you go," he promised.


	16. Draco

Term resumed as usual, though Sara had something to look forward to after a day full of classes. They didn't feel the need to draw too much attention to their relationship, so only a few people knew. Sara had told Katie, Alicia, and Angelina that day. George told Fred and Lee. It was also probably a bit obvious to some of the Gryffindors, as Sara and George had taken to holding hands or snuggling up in an armchair together. Still, they were keeping their public displays to a minimum so as to ward off any unwanted attention.

It seemed as if Ivan had realized that they were a couple before Sara said anything to him. Though Sara tried to explain herself, Ivan merely held up his hand and laughed. He said that as long as they could still be friends, he was happy.

It was a crisp February evening. Sara was stuffed between Fred and George at dinner, looking over her Potions book for a quiz they'd be having the next day. George kept lowering her book and forcing her to eat every few minutes, and she obliged half-heartedly. She was taken aback when a large owl landed at the table in front of her and dipped its beak into her goblet.

"Artemis!" she exclaimed, reaching out and stroking the owl's feathered head.

"Bit late for mail, isn't it?" Fred asked as he fed the owl a crisp.

Her father's owl had a roll of parchment attached to his leg. She untied the string and pulled the parchment away, allowing him to lower his leg. He accepted a final crisp from George before hooting happily and flying away.

"I wrote dad ages ago asking if he knew where those presents might have come from," Sara said as she opened up the parchment.

"He's probably been pretty busy," Fred suggested.

"Maybe," Sara muttered.

Her father's messy scrawl decorated the parchment. He had written, crossed out, and rewritten so many lines, it almost made it difficult to read.

_Darling  
><em>_If you're getting this letter in the Great Hall, it might be best to take it somewhere else and read it, for your own good._

Sara looked up at George, who had been reading the letter over her shoulder.

"Will you come with me?" she asked, though it was hardly necessary; George was already standing up and grabbing his bag.

"Where you going?" Fred asked.

"To read this," Sara brandished the letter at him.

"I'll be up in a bit," he waved them off, digging into his food again.

Sara and George walked until they reached George's dormitory, which was entirely empty as everyone was down at dinner. Sara dropped her bag next to his bed and sat down on the edge of it. George dropped down next to her. She held the parchment out for both of them to see and began to read silently.

_Darling  
><em>_If you're getting this letter in the Great Hall, it might be best to take it somewhere else and read it, for your own good. What I have to tell you is difficult for me to put into words. Perhaps it's cowardly for me to write it rather than tell you in person, but I still have trouble talking about it and can be more refined in a letter. I should not have put off telling you for so long, but it sill pains me to remember._

_There is something you need to know about your mother. Before she and I were married, she went by the name Emmeline Black. She had three sisters: Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa. Andromeda was disowned when she married a Muggle-born wizard named Ted Tonks. Bellatrix married the Death Eater Rodolphus Lestrange and declared her devotion to Voldemort; she is currently in Azkaban. Narcissa married Lucius Malfoy, known Death Eater who avoided imprisonment after the First Wizarding War by claiming that he had been under the Imperius Curse._

_You deserve to know the truth. A Death Eater, the identity of which is still unknown, killed your mother. Narcissa came to me and tried to make amends, but I wouldn't hear it. I'm sorry if my decision cost you a childhood with a mother-figure, but it was my choice to make._

_When Narcissa saw you at the Quidditch World Cup, she seemed quite shocked. I believe this is because of the resemblance you share with your mother; it was as if her sister had returned, and she was shaken. I still haven't forgiven her for choosing Malfoy over her own sister._

_The teapot, book, and bracelet were all objects left to your mother in her own mother's will. After I severed ties with the Black family, the items were likely passed to Narcissa. I believe it was she who sent you the gifts for Christmas._

_This was perhaps the most difficult letter I have ever had to write. I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you the truth. I still cannot admit to myself that she's gone sometimes. The last thing I want is to hurt you. If you choose to make contact with Narcissa, I will not fault you in the least.  
><em>_I love you,  
><em>_Dad_

Sara's eyes remained glued to the parchment long after she'd finished reading the letter. George laid a hand on her shoulder. Suddenly, the dormitory door opened and Fred marched in. Sara was still staring at the parchment, and George gave him a warning look.

"What's up?" he asked, taking a seat on her other side.

Sara moved the letter so he could read it as well, still not looking away. Her eyes were scanning over the parchment again, though she wasn't really processing anything.

"So you and Malfoy are cousins then?" Fred asked as he looked up at Sara and George.

"Apparently," she replied.

"And that's why she wouldn't stop looking at you during the World Cup," George added.

"Yeah," she murmured.

Her mind was spinning. She knew so little about her mother, and this had been a lot of information at once.

"You okay?" both boys asked.

"I need to go for a walk," she said, standing up suddenly.

"What?" George asked, taken aback.

"I need to think. I… I'll be back."

Grasping the letter tightly in her hand, she set off down the spiral staircase and out the portrait hole. A few students were making their ways to the library or back to their common rooms, but the halls were relatively empty. She stared intently down at the letter again, her eyes scanning over her father's untidy scrawl. _Emmeline Black… Death Eater… Killed your mother… Resemblance you share with your mother… I still haven't forgiven her…_ Her nose was buried in her letter, and she didn't notice someone come sharply around the corner. The two collided, and each went flying backwards. Sara landed on her back and groaned. She opened her eyes and saw Draco Malfoy on the floor in front of her, and he was alone. He watched her for a moment before standing up and extending a hand to her. She tentatively took it and stood up as well. She stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"Is this why you never insult me, then?" she asked suddenly, brandishing the letter at him. "Insult my friends all you want, but mummy tell you not to take jibes at cousin Sara? Well?"

"I… Well… She…" he stuttered.

"Where's your little friends, certainly not letting ickle Draco walk around all by his lonesome," she taunted.

"Well it's not like you're ever by yourself either, where are the twins? Scrounging for Knuts to afford their robes for next year?" he said, losing his temper.

"How dare you!" Sara shouted. "I'd rather have them for friends than Pig-Snout Parkinson and the Gargoyles! Is that the only thing you can find to make fun of, the fact that they don't have money? They're a hundred times more decent than you or your father'll ever be!"

"Don't talk about my father that-"

"What's going on here?" a gruff voice said behind Sara.

_Clunk. Clunk. Clunk._

Immediately, Draco looked fearful. Sara looked behind her and saw Moody hobbling toward them, his wooden leg thunking under the marble floor and echoing around the hall. He stopped just behind Sara and leered at Draco.

"Not ferreting around again, are you, boy?" Moody asked menacingly.

Without another word, Draco spun around and sped down the hall, disappearing around the nearest corner.

"Thank you, sir," Sara muttered, trying not to look at him.

"You all right, Roth?" Moody asked gruffly.

"Yes, fine," she replied, glancing up at him.

The chunk missing out of his distinguished nose was clearly visible from this distance. His blue eye was staring down at her face, and his magical eye was peering down at the letter in her hand. She turned it away from him, and the eye began to zoom rapidly left and right.

"He talks a big game, but he's just a little sneak, that ferret," Moody growled, his good eye snapping toward the spot where Draco had previously stood.

"I think I can handle myself alright against him," Sara shrugged.

"I've no doubt about that," he muttered.

His good eye flicked back to her and looked her up and down. She likened it to the feeling of being X-rayed. In a flicker of movement, his tongue darted across his lips in a very frog-like action.

"Th-thank you, professor, but Fred and George are waiting in the common room for me," she said.

As quickly as she could, she ducked around him and swept back down the corridor. She knew he had turned to watch her walk away. She didn't stop until she had returned to the common room and fallen onto the couch between Fred and George.

"Everything alright?" Fred asked, very concernedly.

"No," she said swiftly.

Moody's actions had made her completely forget about the letter. She told the twins about meeting Malfoy in the hall—leaving out the specifics of his insult—and how Moody had frightened him away and proceeded to lecherously ogle her.

"He was never like that… I mean, I guess I haven't seen him in a while… But he was always so normal—I mean, as normal as he can be," she reasoned.

"Maybe it's just him getting on in years. Retirement might be doing funny things to him," George suggested.

"Maybe," Sara murmured, sounding entirely unconvinced.

"And Malfoy's still a prat, finding out he's your cousin really doesn't make him a better person," Fred grumbled.

"No, still a twit, as always," she sighed. "I think I'll go up to bed. I'm exhausted."

She kissed George swiftly and ruffled Fred's hair before retiring to her room. She dropped down onto her bed and lay there with the letter still clutched tightly in her hands.

She didn't blame her father for being angry at Narcissa. A Death Eater had killed her mother—the love of his life—and her own sisters had gone of and married them (and one had even become one herself). And then Narcissa wanted to be involved in Sara's life? She would have made the same spiteful decision. Her father had done a good job of keeping photographs of her mother out of sight, so Sara didn't know if she and her mother looked alike, though most people said they did. Narcissa had probably received the shock of a lifetime when she saw her sister back from the dead at the World Cup.

Then there was the matter of the gifts. They were Black family heirlooms, passed down to her mother from generations back. Now they belonged to Sara. She knew she couldn't give them up, but having something so symbolic of the side of her family she never knew was a bit too much.

Then there was Moody. Had old age and too much time on his hands turned him into a perverted old man? The Moody she knew regarded Sara as more of a daughter than anything else. He had been close to her mother—assisted in her Auror training, and assuredly thought of her as a daughter as well. Still, there was something very wrong about him, something she couldn't quite grasp.

Sara changed into her pajamas and settled back into bed. Just before she fell asleep, she considered purchasing a pensieve as soon as she could, just so she would be able to sift through her thoughts rather than suffering with them. The fitful sleep that followed was most unsatisfactory.


	17. The Second Task

It was the morning of the second task, and Sara was up with the sun. Of all the days to oversleep, today could not be one of them. She showered and dressed in layers before heading down to the Great Hall. She passed Cedric, who looked nervous.

"Hey," she said, leaning over the Hufflepuff table to get his attention. "Got a plan?"

"Sure," he replied anxiously. He looked around the room nervously. "You haven't seen Cho this morning, have you?"

"No, but I just got here. It's still early," she explained.

She noticed Fred and George already seated at the Gryffindor table. They were acting altogether suspicious. She bade good luck to Cedric before stalking over to the table and peering over their shoulders. Fred was collecting money and George was taking bets from his fellow Gryffindors.

"Unbelievable!" Sara cried, causing both of the twins to jump.

"Didn't see you there," Fred said weakly.

As swift as lightning, she pulled the notebook from George's hands and stepped out of his reach.

"'Shortest time,' 'Highest score,' 'Worst injuries sustained,'" she read the categories aloud. "You two really have topped yourselves!"

"Look," Fred lowered his voice, "we haven't got any other way to make money now we're flat broke. Bagman paid us back in leprechaun gold, so we haven't got anything. If we want to start our shop before we're 70, we're gonna have to resort to desperate measures."

Sara rolled her eyes and threw the pad back at George. Despite how little she cared for their gambling (which would get them in serious trouble if a teacher caught them), she felt bad for the boys. She had never needed to worry about money as her father only had her to care for. She didn't spend it like it was on fire, but she never needed to wear hand-me-downs or use second-hand wands and cauldrons. It was for this reason that she sat down at the table across from them and turned a blind eye on their antics, making sure to keep watch over their shoulders for teachers.

"Seen Harry yet this morning?" she asked, peering down the Gryffindor table.

"No, but maybe he's just doing some last-minute preparing. Hermione and Ron haven't come down yet either," George said.

Sara knew exactly where Ron and Hermione were. She opened her mouth to say so before remembering that they didn't know what the second task was. Fred seemed to notice her gaping.

"So, still not gonna tell us what the second task is?" he asked as he took three Galleons from an excited third-year.

"No sir," she replied cheerily. "It's more fun if you don't know."

"I seem to recall very much enjoying the last task," George said.

"Well, Dumbledore told me about this one without you two there, and I'd hate to betray his trust," she declared, feeling a bit important.

After breakfast, the twins walked with Sara down to the lake, around which the stands from the first task had been erected. Along the way, they took bets from passers-by, careful to avoid the keen eye of Professor McGonagall near the entrance.

"Miss Roth, Professor Dumbledore has asked me to have you enter through here," she said, gesturing to the dock behind her.

"Meet me down here after," she whispered to George.

She bade farewell to Fred and George and headed down the small path and onto the dock. Fleur, Krum, and Cedric were all there looking nervous. They barely glanced up at her as she passed them, though Cedric gave her a weak smile. Harry was still absent. The other teachers were standing near the side of the dock, not really speaking to one another. Sara approached the judges, who seemed to be speaking in hushed tones.

"Ah, Miss Roth," Dumbledore said, the other judges falling silent. "You will be over here with Madam Pomfrey."

He gestured her to follow him to the side where Madam Pomfrey stood wringing her hands just as she had during the previous task. But before they reached her, Dumbledore laid a hand on Sara's shoulder.

"Miss Roth, have you seen Harry yet this morning?" he asked.

She looked up at Dumbledore and saw a worried expression on his face. She couldn't recall ever seeing him wearing such a look. He appeared even older than normal, the age lines creasing deeper in his face. He was so much taller than her that she had to crane her neck to see him properly. And even wearing the expression of worry, Sara couldn't suppress the thought that he must have been an incredibly handsome young man in his youth. However, she quickly dispelled this thought.

"No sir, I haven't. Not since last night," she replied.

The worry in his face increased.

"Thank you," he nodded, turning back toward the judges.

As the minutes until 9:30 dwindled down, Sara became more and more nervous. She noticed Dumbledore frequently looking toward the castle, probably to see if Harry was coming. It wasn't until about 9:27 that Sara saw Dumbledore look toward the castle and watched the relief flood his face. Harry was sprinting down the hill at breakneck speed, reaching the docks not even a minute later. Though Percy (standing in for Mr. Crouch) scolded him, Bagman jumped to his aid. He gave Harry a wink before pointing his wand at his throat and muttering, "_Sonorus!"_

"Well," his voice boomed, rippling the water on the lake's surface, "all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One… two… _three!"_

They all waded out into the water, each looking like they had stepped into an icy bath. Cedric, Krum, and Fleur disappeared under the water but Harry stood there. He was furiously chewing at something, then swallowed and stood there, waiting. Some laughter echoed through the crowd—mostly from the Slytherins and other schools—until he clasped his hand over his neck and dove into the lake.

There was nothing to do but wait. It was far less action-packed than the previous task. Gradually, the volume of conversations in the stand increased as students grew bored with watching the still lake. However, everyone on the dock was completely silent, rooted to their spots and merely watching the surface of the lake. Sara was seated behind the judges and was digging her nails into her palms so hard they were leaving crescent marks in her skin.

Then, out of nowhere, Fleur thrashed to the surface. The judges were out of their seats and pulling her onto the dock before the crowd could properly react. Her head was distorted by the giant bubble surrounding it. Dumbledore raised his wand and popped it, allowing her to breathe properly. She was crying.

"Ze grindylows! Zey attacked me! I could not pass zem! It was 'orrible!" she sputtered.

"Eet eez all right," Madame Maxime said throatily. "You tried."

"My dear, if you'd step over toward the nurses," Dumbledore said gently, ushering her toward Sara and Madam Pomfrey.

"Here you are, dear," Madame Pomfrey said, draping a heavy blanket over her shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

"No, but I 'ave failed ze task," she moaned. "What if she eez 'urt?"

"It'll be alright," Sara cooed.

Fleur was trapped in her own grief and wasn't listening to them. Sara resumed staring at the lake intently, as if staring hard enough would allow her to see to the bottom. She heard Ludo Bagman say that the hour was up. Then, no more than a minute later, Cedric surfaced, clutching Cho tightly to him. They were pulled onto the dock and taken to Sara and Madame Pomfrey.

"Are you alright?" Sara asked Cedric as she threw a blanket over his shoulders.

"Brilliant," he beamed. "How did I do on time?"

"Just a minute outside the hour."

"Could have been worse," he shrugged.

"You were the first though. Fleur couldn't get past the grindylows," she whispered.

"Excellent," he smiled even more broadly.

He went over to Cho, who was watching them out of the corner of her eye. Sara could only roll her eyes when she leaned herself against him and kissed him full on the mouth. She might as well have peed on him to mark her territory.

Krum and Hermione were the next to surface, and they too were ushered over to the nurse's station.

"Did Harry figure it out? Did he find a way to complete the task?" Hermione asked as Sara draped a blanket over her.

"I think so. He went down and hasn't come back up yet. He almost didn't make it though, got here with two minutes to spare," Sara said, pulling the blanket tight around her.

"Oh, I hope he figured it out," she moaned, looking back out at the water, all but forgetting about Krum.

Madam Pomfrey fed them all a potion to warm them up while Sara looked back out at the lake. What if he never came back up? Did Dumbledore have a way of getting down there to help him? The minutes ticked by like hours. Hermione appeared at Sara's side, staring just as avidly at the lake. Krum sulked next to her. Minutes passed, and more minutes passed. Sara was almost panicking.

With a splash, Harry, Ron, and a blonde-haired girl strikingly similar to Fleur emerged from the water. Harry and Ron pulled the girl toward the dock, where Fleur was waiting for her looking relieved. Percy was also at the edge of the dock, looking frightened. They hoisted the girl up to Fleur, who wrapped her arms around her. Percy seized Ron and hoisted him up onto the dock as well. Sara and Hermione ran to Harry, who looked a bit annoyed. After Madam Pomfrey had fed him some of the potion and wrapped him in a blanket, Hermione threw her arms around him.

"Harry, well done!" she cried. "You did it, you found out how all by yourself!"

"Well— Yeah, that's right," he stuttered.

Sara watched intently as Dumbledore spoke to the Merchieftainess in Mermish, a strange screeching that was utterly fascinating. Then he went to confer with the other judges. Karkaroff looked indignant, growling something in Russian after Dumbledore had turned away. Bagman's voice boomed out over the crowd once more.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions as follows… Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

"I deserve zero," Sara heard her murmur.

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour. We therefore award him forty-seven points."

Sara cheered loudly. Cedric flushed with pride.

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points… Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect. He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was the first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However… " he shot Karkaroff a dirty look. "Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."

Sara and Hermione screamed just as loud, and the crowd erupted in a similar roar. This made Harry and Cedric tied for first place. They barely heard Bagman say that the next task would be on the twenty-fourth of June. Madam Pomfrey ushered the champions and hostages up to the castle, and the judges and teachers followed suite, but Sara waited on the dock. The rumble of footsteps was vibrating the surface of the lake, and she stared intently at it.

"All right, Roth?"

_Clunk. Clunk. Clunk._

Sara stiffened, suddenly fearful. She was alone on the dock with Moody. No one knew they were down there except Fred and George. She was afraid to turn around and look at him.

"Fine, sir," she replied shortly.

"Not heading back up to the school?" he asked.

_Clunk. Clunk. Clunk._

"Just waiting for Fred and George," she said, trying to stop the shaking of her voice.

"You spend a lot of time with those boys," he noted. He was directly behind her now.

"They're my best friends," she said.

"Are they now?"

Sara could sense him merely inches behind her. He drew in a great, rattling breath—was he sniffing her?—and he let it out shakily. She thought she could draw her wand and take her chances. But he was an ex-auror, one of the best in the business. She had little chance in a duel against him. She looked down at the lake, contemplating. She could just jump. He breathed in again, this time more slowly. She bit her lip, mentally preparing herself for the icy plunge.

"What's going on here?"

Sara looked over and saw Snape standing on the path that led out to the dock. Immediately, Moody backed away from Sara. She let out the breath she'd been holding since he'd drawn up behind her.

"Sniffing around, are you, Snape?" Moody asked threateningly.

"Hardly," he replied icily, though Sara noticed his voice lacked the menace it held when speaking to students.

"Might want to be careful where you snoop. Never know who might be watching," Moody growled.

He clunked down the dock, passed uncomfortably close to Snape, and hobbled up the hill. Snape stared at Sara with those calculating black eyes, and she stared back. She could only imagine how frightened she looked. What would he assume was happening?

"Are you alright?" he asked shortly.

"Y-yes sir," she stuttered, taken aback.

Sara had never heard him even ask his own students if they were alright, let alone a Gryffindor. He strode up the dock past Sara and picked up something off the ground. He stuffed it into his pocket before she could see what it was. When he turned back toward her, she could see him scrutinizing her once more. She opened her mouth to speak, not sure what she would say.

"I was merely coming back for this," he said abruptly, gesturing toward his pocket.

"Oh… Well… Thank you, sir… For… Well…" she stuttered.

"Cease your stammering, Miss Roth. People will think the Weasley's stupidity is rubbing off on you," he muttered coolly.

He strode past her with his icy air, returning to the crowd of people returning to the castle. He could speak with all the frost he wanted, but Sara had caught the concern his words had held. He had been worried about her, if not for more than a moment. Had he seen Moody slip back in the crowd and return to the docks? Or had he been watching? Waiting?

The boys appeared at the top of the hill and gestured for her to come to them. As she headed up the hill, she knew one thing for certain: she'd be pondering this for a while.


	18. Blackmail

As the excitement from the second task died down, reality dawned on Sara. She had about three months until her O.W.L.s and she'd done a remarkably small amount of studying. The teachers were throwing homework at them left and right. Along with the new work load, her volunteering at the Hospital Wing, her Prefect duties, and spending time with George, she had no time for anything else.

George and Sara were tucked comfortably into the couch. Sara had her back against the arm of the couch and her legs thrown over George's lap; she was lost in the Herbology book she was reading. George was leaning back with a book of his own in his hands: _How to Start a Business_. He was highlighting certain passages with his wand. Every so often, he would look up at Sara and watch her for a moment. She would look up and ask, "What?" He would reply, "Nothing," and return to his book. The common room had cleared out, leaving only the two of them and a few seventh years frantically trying to finish their homework—though they soon went off to bed as well. When Sara caught George staring at her for what felt like the hundredth time, she sighed and closed her book.

"If you say nothing one more time…" she murmured.

"I just… I like watching you," he explained feebly.

"Why?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Because you're beautiful," he replied.

"You know, it'd be easier to ignore you if you weren't so sweet about interrupting me," she said, burying herself in the nook of his arm. He too dropped his book onto his lap and pulled her close to him.

"I'VE GOT IT!" a loud voice called from the stairs.

Fred stumbled down the spiral staircase leading to the boys' dormitories. He had a piece of parchment in his hand, as well as a more formal looking scroll. He stopped in front of Sara and George looking incredibly pleased with himself.

"What've you got?" George asked.

"A way to get Bagman to _finally_ talk candidly with us," Fred replied, brandishing the scroll.

"I'm listening," George said eagerly.

"These are court proceedings from a trial brought before the Wizengamot. It concerns one Ludovig Bagman. He was brought to them under charges of passing along information to Voldemort's supporters, and according to this he doesn't deny any of it. Looks to me like he got off because he was famous," Fred peered at the scroll for good measure.

"Bagman? No way," George said incredulously, snatching the scroll from Fred with his hand that wasn't holding Sara's and looking intently at it.

"Yes way. They let him off scot-free. The current Ministry of Magic really has no idea," Fred said excitedly.

"And what exactly do you intend to do with this information?" Sara asked the eager twin.

"Well, I thought we could write him a pleasant letter and inform him of what we know, and how it would be a shame if the Ministry of Magic got ahold of this information again. You know, a little reminder of his misdeeds," Fred smirked.

"You mean blackmail," Sara said pointedly.

"Fred, we can't do that," George urged, looking up at his brother.

"This is _not_ blackmail," Fred insisted.

"I don't think I want to hear anymore about this," Sara shook her head. "I know too much as it is. Please don't blackmail the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. It can only end badly for you."

She kissed George and spared a quick glare for Fred before standing, stretching, and heading up to bed.

"She's right, you know," she heard George say as she took the first step around the spiral staircase.

"Shut up," she heard Fred retort as she rounded the corner.

The next few weeks were a blur to Sara. Her O.W.L. testing would take place at the start of June, and she was studying like mad. George accompanied her to the library every night and even helped her study a bit. He also proved to be a welcome distraction to help her keep her sanity. He forced her down to meals and made her go to bed every night. Still, he couldn't stop her from sneaking a book into bed with her at night—something she did more often than she should have.

"You really are gonna kill yourself," George remarked at dinner.

Sara, however, was not listening. She'd set her book down only long enough to take a bite before burying herself in it once more to look up something she'd forgotten. It was the night before her Charms exam, and she was frantic—though not the only one. Throughout the hall, students were thinking about the examination—some studying like Sara, others looking queasy and nervous as they picked at their dinners.

"Seriously, take a deep breath and eat properly. You're stressing way too much over this," Fred chided.

"Look, Weasley," she snarled, slamming the book down on the table. "I'll stress over this as much as I like, thank you. And for another matter-"

"Alright, I'm sorry I said anything. Starve for all I care," he conceded, raising his hands in defeat.

"Come on, eat," George urged, and for him, she obliged.

The exams were not as horrific as she'd been expecting. Though Ancient Runes and Arithmancy were tough, she was quite certain she'd passed. She'd flown through Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Charms without breaking a sweat. After writing endlessly for History of Magic, Sara left the classroom and heaved a sigh of relief. She was done.

She decided to go for a walk after lunch, as it was just too beautiful outside to resist. After leaving her bag in her room and changing out of her robes and into shorts and a t-shirt, she traipsed out onto the grounds and into the sunshine. It was the perfect day. The lake glittered in the sunlight, the trees rustled with a slight breeze. The only thing different about this year was the hedge collection sprouting on the Quidditch pitch. She strolled past the greenhouses and peeked inside. George and Lee Jordan were inside struggling with a potted plant that Sara couldn't identify. When George looked up and saw her standing there, he smiled broadly. He gave a thumbs up with a questioning sort of look. Sara smiled and nodded back. George winked before returning to the plant with Lee. She noticed a dirt smudge down his right cheek that she'd probably be cleaning off later. Laughing, she turned back toward the lake, but something caught her eye.

Someone was striding along one of the hedge walls at a rather quick clip. He was looking up and down the hedges, running his hands over them as if he could make out some sort of hidden doorway. Pretending to move closer to the lake, Sara neared the pitch and realized who it was: Karkaroff. He'd never find anything he needed there; Moody was the one in charge of enchantments, and Karkaroff would never outsmart him. She drew up next to the bank of the lake and lay down beneath one of the large, shady trees. Before she knew it, she'd fallen asleep.

"Severus, this is important!"

"Igor, you continue to approach me with these concerns, and I continue to tell you that I cannot help you."

"The mark is getting even darker. You cannot tell me that you do not fear retribution! You're working for the wizard he hates and fears the most in this world. You will likely be the first to go!"

"Ah, but I believe the first to go would be the one who betrayed his comrades to save his own skin from the dementors."

"This can mean nothing but trouble!"

"For _you_."

"What will you do if he truly does return?"

"I am not a coward, Igor. I will not run. Good day."

Sara didn't move until she'd heard both sets of footsteps disappear. She stood up and saw Karkaroff back at the hedges, while Snape was walking swiftly back toward the castle. The two had been standing just above the bank, preventing them from seeing Sara lying just below them. She had heard their entire conversation. She walked slowly back toward the school, pondering what she'd heard.

_What will you do if he truly does return?_ There was no other explanation, Karkaroff had been referring to Voldemort. But what reason did Snape have to be afraid? Unless… Sara stopped dead in her tracks, looking at the door into which he had just disappeared.

Unless Snape had been a Death Eater too.

It seemed impossible. But was it? Harry always seemed to suspect the worst of him, and he was certainly a hard-ass, but did that make him a Death Eater? Did he really associate himself with the people who had killed her mother? She was so distracted, she didn't notice someone come striding up behind her.

"Hey," a voice said close to her ear.

She cried out, jumping in fright. Her head collided with something hard. She groaned, reaching up and gripping the spot tightly, as she turned to see George doing the same thing with his cheek.

"Merlin, I didn't mean to scare you," he groaned.

"Sorry, I'm a little jumpy," she said.

"Everything okay?"

"No," she replied.

Rather than returning to the castle, Sara and George set off back toward the lake. Making sure they weren't being followed, she told him exactly what she'd heard after she'd fallen asleep next to the lake. They drew up next to the lake again and stopped, looking out over the crystal surface.

"There's no way Snape's a Death Eater. Dumbledore wouldn't hire someone who worked for You-Know-Who," George stated pointedly.

"Doesn't it seem like something he would do though? If Snape repented properly, Dumbledore might have the heart to hire him. Never let him teach Defense Against the Dark Arts in case it tempts him, keep an eye on him, but trust him," Sara mused.

"It just… I dunno, _maybe_," he conceded.

"I guess we never know. He could be a Death Eater who really did make a mistake and turned it around," she sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

"Let's go eat," George suggested.

He extended his arm, and Sara took it, allowing him to lead her back up to the castle. Talk turned to exams and the next task, and thoughts of Snape and Death Eaters were pushed to the backs of their minds.


	19. The Third Task

The evening of the third task arrived much sooner than Sara had expected it would. She had spent the morning lounging beside the lake and the afternoon wandering around the school with Harry, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill. They returned to the Great Hall for dinner, where the mood was very mixed. Tensions were high, but excitement was higher. Sara sat down between Fred and George. At the sight of her, both of them tucked something away in their pockets.

"If your mum sees you gambling, she'll skin you both alive," she whispered to George just before Molly joined them at the table.

"Thanks," he whispered, making sure the notebook was tucked securely into his pocket.

Dinner seemed to fly by, and before long the desserts had disappeared and Dumbledore stood from his chair. The hall fell eerily silent.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."

A roar of applause shook the Gryffindor table as Harry stood from his seat. Sara, Hermione, and the Weasleys all bade him good luck as he left the table. Cedric passed behind Sara and she laid a hand on his arm.

"Be safe tonight, boys-only," she winked.

"I will," he replied with a laugh.

The champions filed out of the hall and a chatter soon filled it.

"I do hope Harry will be alright," Mrs. Weasley murmured, fidgeting nervously.

"Mum, all the precautions have been taken, he'll be fine," Bill urged, squeezing her shoulder.

"Miss Roth," a voice behind Sara spoke.

Sara turned to see Snape just behind her, avoiding eye contact with the others at the table.

"Oh, yes sir?" she asked, standing up quickly.

"I've been instructed to escort you down to the Quidditch pitch. You'll be sitting with the teachers and judges for the third task," he said shortly, staring just over her head.

"Oh, yes, of course," she spluttered.

"The families are sitting with the teachers too, so we'll join you in a bit," Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly at her.

"Alright, see you," she waved farewell as she trailed after Snape, who had already embarked from the table.

She caught up to him only after jogging through the entrance hall and out the large front door. He walked briskly, as if he wanted to get away from her as soon as possible. She trotted along next to him, doing her best not to fall behind. They entered the Quidditch field where a twenty-foot high hedge maze now stood. The champions were standing near the maze's entrance. Sara waved at them as she passed, and Harry, Cedric, and Fleur (who for some reason had been much friendlier toward Sara lately) all waved back. Snape hurried on into the stands, where Madam Pomfrey was already seated, her hands fidgeting nervously.

"Professor Dumbledore would like for you to sit on the other end of this row," Snape spoke for the first time since they'd set out.

"Oh, sure," Sara replied.

She took her seat on the other end of row and waited. The rumbling of the students coming down the lawn grew louder until hundreds of bodies rushed into the stands. Dumbledore and the other judges were leading the way, closely followed by the Weasleys. Sara also noticed that Mr. Weasley was now with them, as were the other champions' parents. They sidled into the row behind her—George making sure to take the seat just behind Sara. Then Dumbledore drew up next to her, a kind smile on his face (per usual).

"Is this seat taken?" he asked, gesturing toward the spot next to her.

"Of course not, sir!" she exclaimed.

He sat down and gestured for the other judges to take their seats as well. Madame Maxime took the seat on his other side (which forced Ron and Ginny to scoot in opposite directions to see past her), then Karkaroff, and then Fudge.

"And who will you be rooting for, Miss Roth?" Dumbledore asked her cordially, folding his hands and resting them on his lap.

"Well, I think I'll have to cheer a bit louder for Harry, but Cedric will always get my support as well," she replied. "And you sir?"

"Oh, it would be most improper of me to choose sides," he said, though a twinkle in his eye made Sara believe she knew the answer.

"Hey," George whispered in her ear, leaning down so that no one else could hear.

"What?" she asked.

"Is this guy bothering you? 'Cause I'll take him out," he murmured, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"I feel as if you might be asked not to return to school next year if you took out the headmaster," she rolled her eyes.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ludo Bagman's magnified voice suddenly filled the stadium, earning everyone's attention, "the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each—Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!" A roar of applause echoed through the air. Sara was sure it was rattling the Black Lake. "In second place, with eighty points—Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute! And in third place—Miss Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons Academy! So… on my whistle, Harry and Cedric! Three—two—one—"

His whistle sounded and Harry and Cedric dashed forward, disappearing inside the maze. The cheering died down, and the crowd waited intently. A few minutes passed, then—

"On my whistle, then, Mr. Krum!" Bagman shouted.

Another sharp whistle blast, and Krum too disappeared inside the maze. A few more minutes, and Fleur followed suite. All of the champions were inside, and there was nothing to do but wait. Every so often, one of the four teachers patrolling the outside of the maze—Hagrid, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Moody—would appear, marching diligently around the hedges, only to disappear around another side. Time passed slowly. 10 minutes, 20 minutes. Then, suddenly, a scream rang out through the sky and a shower of red sparks went up from one of the maze's edges. As if the maze were not even there, Professor McGonagall walked through one of the walls and disappeared. When she returned, Fleur was with her, crying. Madam Pomfrey was up and on the field in a flash. She ushered Fleur into a tent off to the side.

"Sir, should I go?" Sara asked, pointing toward the tent.

"I don't believe there's any need unless Miss Delacour is injured. I've instructed Madam Pomfrey to summon you if your services are required, otherwise you may remain here. Unless, of course, you are so compelled," he said.

He seemed entirely unfazed by Fleur's failure. Perhaps it really was nothing, but Sara was getting nervous. Madam Pomfrey returned to the stands with Fleur, who was crying. She took a seat next to Madame Maxime, who wrapped a large arm around the quivering girl. Perhaps trying to be comforting, Bill leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. Fleur attempted to calm herself and turned to smile up at him. Ron turned a severe pink color even though she wasn't looking at him, but Bill just smiled back. Dumbledore, who had also been watching them, turned toward Sara with a smirk pulling at his lips.

"How nice," he muttered.

Just then, another shower of red sparks flew up nearer to the center of the maze. This time, it was Flitwick who emerged from the maze, and with Krum slouching along behind him. Once again, Madam Pomfrey flew down and ushered Krum into the tent, and then out to Karkaroff.

"What happened?" Karkaroff's gruff voice asked him.

"I don't know," Krum replied, his tone vacant. "I… I do not remember."

Dumbledore did not change his position, but Sara sensed that his mood had changed. His eyes lost the playful spark that they had held only moments before. He was now staring avidly at the maze, as if he could perhaps see through the walls and locate Harry. Now that Dumbledore was nervous, Sara grew even more so. The time seemed to creep by. Dumbledore pulled a pocket watch out—but it had to have been wrong, that couldn't possibly be the time. Over two and a half hours had passed since Harry and Cedric had entered the maze. Sara fidgeted in her seat.

"Headmaster."

Sara glanced inconspicuously over at Snape, who was clasping his left arm and hastily pulling the fabric over his wrist. Unfortunately, he was not fast enough. Sara saw something black and—was it slithering?—before the sleeve covered it. Farther down the row, Karkaroff was also clutching at his arm. The expression on his face was one of utmost fear. Dumbledore's expression was unreadable as he stared curiously at Snape. Something black and slithering? Sara searched her brain. That day, next to the lake… Karkaroff had said something to Snape… _"What will you do if he truly does return?" _Something black and slithering on his left arm?

Realization dawned on Sara as if someone had turned on a light. She gasped loudly and clasped a hand over her mouth. Dumbledore turned his inquisitive face upon her. Her eyes, wide and terrified, stared back into his. A sort of silent understanding passed between them. Finally Dumbledore sighed heavily.

"You are a bit too brilliant, Miss Roth," he muttered.

"Sir, it can't be…" she choked out.

"I'm afraid it is… And it isn't entirely a surprise," he murmured.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sara watched Karkaroff stand, mutter a hasty string of excuses, and stumble over Madam Pomfrey to get out of the stadium.

"Is he running?" Sara asked.

"Most likely," Dumbledore replied.

"Isn't there something you can do, sir?" she asked, her voice shaky.

"For now, we must wait," he sighed.

And so they waited. No one seemed to understand what was happening, how serious the situation was. They were chatting as if this was completely normal.

"What's wrong?" George leaned over and whispered into Sara's ear.

"Something bad," she whispered.

The waiting became entirely unbearable. Sara was unable to sit still. George laid a hand on her shoulder and she grasped it tightly. He knew better than to tell her not to worry. She wouldn't listen even if he did. The sun was setting now, disappearing behind the Forbidden Forest. The sky was darkening…

Then, with a flash of light, Harry and Cedric appeared on the grass in front of the maze. Not waiting for anyone else, Sara bolted from her seat and flew toward them, Dumbledore and Fudge quick on her heels. The crowd around them burst into cheers, some of them wondering who had actually made it to the cup first. But both of them had landed facedown and hadn't rolled over. A panic flooded through her. When she saw Harry's fingers grip tightly around the cup, she felt some of that fear subside. She dropped to her knees next to Cedric, who was also locked tightly in Harry's grip. Dumbledore turned Harry over and forced him to speak.

"He's back," Harry croaked. "He's back. Voldemort."

Sara shook Cedric gently. She called his name. Fudge and Dumbledore were both speaking to Harry, but Sara was not paying attention. She was shaking Cedric harder now. Harry finally released him and Sara turned him over. A small scream escaped from her lips. His grey eyes were dark, blank voids. She frantically searched his body for a wound, but there was none to be found.

"No, no, no, no!" she cried, her hands shaking.

"Sara," Dumbledore said gently, pulling Harry to his feet.

"I… I can't," she choked, tears filling her eyes. "There's nothing for me to heal!"

"There's nothing you can do," he said.

She ran her fingers delicately over his face. His cheeks still held the faint pink that she had grown so used to. She pushed the hair away from his eyes and closed them delicately.

"See ya around, boys-only," she managed, tears cascading down her face.

Sara stood and backed away from Cedric's body. She could hear the crowd murmuring and a few of them closing in around them. Dumbledore was speaking heatedly to Fudge. Harry was swaying dangerously, and Moody was right behind him.

"I'll take Harry, Dumbledore, I'll take him—" she heard Moody growl.

"No, I would prefer—"

A rush of voices, Dumbledore walked away, the crowd began to knock into Sara. Two hands landed on her shoulder. She turned to see Fred and George behind her. Mrs. Weasley was clutching Bill's hand, who had his other arm wrapped around her shoulders. Mr. Weasley was trying to console Mr. Diggory who had collapsed next to his son.

"It… It's… He can't…" she stuttered, the tears falling faster now.

She collapsed into Fred, who pulled her into a hug. He patted her head and attempted to pull her away from the crowd. However, she stopped and stared around for a minute. There was something very wrong.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she cried, breaking away from a shocked Fred. "Professor! Professor! Harry! He's gone!"

Dumbledore turned quickly and stared around the crowd.

"He must be here," he said, more to himself than anyone else.

"Sir, it's Moody!" she cried.

Without waiting, she bolted toward the castle, where she was sure Moody had disappeared with Harry. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape trailing behind her. She didn't slow down for them as she raced toward the castle.

"-should've seen it sooner," Dumbledore was muttering to himself.

"Sir," Sara huffed. "Sir, the day of the second task— Moody came up behind me— He wasn't right— He's not himself— It can't be him!"

"I have come to the same conclusion, Miss Roth," he replied swiftly.

When they reached the entrance hall, Dumbledore took the lead. He led them up the stairs and through a corridor. For such an old man, Dumbledore was quite spry. He had easily outrun Sara, Snape, and McGonagall, and as such beat them to their destination.

_"Stupefy!"_ his voice rang through the hall.

The door he was standing in front of had been thrown open and Dumbledore stepped inside. Sara, McGonagall, and Snape stepped into the doorway and saw Dumbledore, more furious than they'd ever seen him, standing over Moody, who had fallen back onto a chair where he was cowering away from Dumbledore. Harry was in another chair, staring wide-eyed at them.

"Moody," Harry choked. "How can it have been Moody?"

"This is not Alastor Moody," Dumbledore said curtly. "You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight. Miss Roth noticed your absence."

Sara blushed under his praise, and Harry looked over at her, as if noticing her presence for the first time.

"Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth potion you possess. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here," Dumbledore ordered, his eyes never leaving Moody's face.

Snape and McGonagall disappeared quickly. Sara wasn't sure if she should stay or go. She shuffled her feet nervously.

"Miss Roth," Dumbledore said suddenly, startling her. "Take these and open up the trunk in the corner."

Sara saw that Dumbledore was holding a set of keys in his hand. She took them from him and drew up next to the strange trunk. It had seven locks, and each key had a roman numeral on it. She took the first key and fit it into the first lock. It was filled with books. The second trunk contained quills and parchment and an invisibility cloak. The third held a few Sneakoscopes and other strange devices. The fourth, fifth, and sixth trunks held similar items. Harry had appeared over her shoulder and was peering into the trunks with her. Finally, she slipped the seventh key into its lock and opened the lid. Harry and Sara both cried out in astonishment. The trunk was now more of a pit, and at the very bottom was the real Mad-Eye Moody, though he looked much worse for the wear.

"Sir, it's Moody!" Sara exclaimed, looking up at Dumbledore.

"He's been drinking Polyjuice Potion. Is Moody missing some hair?" he asked.

"Yes," Harry replied, his voice a bit strained.

"The imposter has been cutting it off all year. But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he should have done… on the hour… every hour… We shall see."

In only a matter of moments, the Moody in the chair began to morph. His face smoothed itself out and his hair began to lighten to the color of straw. His wooden leg and magical eye fell away. The man in the chair before them was years younger than Mad-Eye Moody. Footsteps pattered toward them and Snape and McGonagall reentered the room.

"Crouch! Barty Crouch!" Snape shouted.

"Good heavens!" McGonagall cried.

"Severus, you have the potion?" Dumbledore turned his attention to Snape.

He stepped forward and pulled the stopper out of a vial of clear liquid. Forcing Crouch's head back, he dripped three drops into his mouth and stepped back.

"Do you know who I am?" Dumbledore asked.

"Albus Dumbledore," Crouch croaked almost unwillingly.

"I would like you to tell us," Dumbledore commanded, "how you came to be here. How did you escape from Azkaban?"

And so Crouch went on to tell them how he had been imprisoned for the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom, how his mother had taken his place so that he could return home, how his father placed him under the Imperius curse and forced him to stay in the house, how he had been the one to find Harry's wand at the Quidditch World Cup and cast the dark mark in the sky, how Voldemort had come to find him and told him that he needed Crouch to go to Hogwarts. Crouch had attacked Moody and forced him into the trunk. All year, he'd been stealing items from Snape's store rooms to make Polyjuice Potion. He'd killed his father when he'd returned to Hogwarts, then turned the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey to take Harry straight to Voldemort.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Crouch finally said, an insane smirk crossing his lips. "He's back. The Dark Lord has returned."

"No," Sara breathed.

Instantly, Crouch's eyes flicked toward her. He licked his lips the way he had when he'd been imitating Moody. She felt disgusted as he eyed her up and down.

"Pretty little thing, aren't you?" he muttered, flicking his tongue out again. "Never had the chance to see just how pretty, did I?"

"Send an owl to Azkaban," Dumbledore ordered, ignoring Crouch's lechery. "I think they'll find they're missing a prisoner."

"I'll be welcomed back like a hero," Crouch laughed.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore replied. "But the dementors are not likely to see it that way."

When Sara returned to the common room that night (after healing Harry's broken leg and slashed arm), the other Gryffindors had gone off to bed—all but Fred and George. Sara was sure the twins had probably sent them out of the common room, as they had all likely been waiting to question Sara or Harry.

"How is he?" Fred asked from his seat on the couch.

"Alive," she replied.

When she realized what she'd said, she burst into tears. George was there instantly, pulling her into his arms. He pulled her toward the couch and sat her down, rubbing her back and holding her close. Fred took one of her hands and clasped it tightly.

"It's not… It's not fair," she cried, gripping tightly to both boys. "He didn't… Have to die."

"How did it happen? Did you find out?" Fred asked.

"It was… V… V-Voldemort," she choked out.

The heavy silence that followed was broken only by Sara's occasional crying, though she was starting to subside.

"So… So he's back?" Fred asked tentatively.

"Yeah. That's why Karkaroff jumped ship. That's what he and Snape were talking about that day by the lake," she looked up at George.

"So Snape really is a-" George began.

"Was," Sara corrected. "He didn't go tonight. He really is reformed, I guess."

"Snape, reformed," Fred scoffed.

"What happened to Harry?" George asked, sensing Fred was heading into dangerous territory.

"I was right about Moody. It wasn't him. It was Barty Crouch's son, but he was taking Polyjuice Potion with Moody's hair in it. He bewitched the Triwizard cup to send Harry to V-V-Voldemort. But Harry and Cedric reached it at the same time. That's why he-" she choked, unable to finish.

"So this whole year, Crouch's son has been posing as Moody?" Fred asked, bewildered.

"Yeah. He killed his father because he was going to rat him out to Dumbledore," Sara said.

"This is all just so messed up," George sighed.

Sara laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Her brain was spinning wildly, full of thoughts but unable to process any of them properly. Fred eventually wandered upstairs, leaving Sara and George alone in the common room.

"There's something else bothering you," George said, looking down at Sara.

She looked up at him with wide eyes. His look was almost incredulous, and she conceded with a sigh. There was worry etched in her face.

"I'm worried," she admitted. "These people killed my mother when they were running amok. I don't even know who did it. Who's to say they won't come after me, or my father? I know it's selfish to worry about, but-"

"It's not selfish to worry about your life, Sara," George chided.

"I know," she sighed heavily, snuggling herself against him and stifling a yawn.

"You need to get some sleep," he said, running his fingers through her hair.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" she asked sleepily.

"Yeah," he pulled her up with him and sent her off to her dormitory to change.

George returned to his room and changed. He could hear Lee's heavy breathing and Fred's snores in the silence of the room. George didn't like this silence. It was too heavy. He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and thought about Sara. She hated the silence too—more than he did. One of them was usually making some sort of noise, like an attempt to make each other more comfortable. He knew it was strange—knew most people didn't do that—but that was why he needed her. She was just as strange as he was. And she needed him too. Being in the middle of a family of seven kids meant you weren't usually needed. For the first time in his life, someone really needed him. He heard the door creak, then click shut. When he went back out into the room, Sara was already curled up in a ball on his bed. He crawled up next to her and pulled her up against him. She fit so perfectly, like a puzzle piece formed especially for him.

"I'm glad I have you, George," she whispered, her hand finding his own and entwining her fingers with his.

"I know. Me too," he replied, planting a tender kiss against her neck.

And, in minutes, they were both sound asleep


	20. Remember

The week passed quickly, and before they knew it, their trunks were packed and they were heading down to the Leaving Feast. Sara had only seen Harry a few times since the aftermath of the Third Task. He, Ron, and Hermione were usually gone before everyone else was up and went to eat when the hall was less crowded. Sara knew what people were saying about Harry. She'd heard a few Hufflepuffs saying that he'd taken out Cedric himself for the glory and made up the bit about Voldemort—a rumor that she promptly pushed out of their heads when she threatened to jinx them into oblivion. The worst was hearing some of the Gryffindors talk about him, as if he wasn't the person that they'd known since their first years at Hogwarts.

Sara, George, Fred, and Lee entered the Great Hall for the feast and recognized that it would be very different from the past few years. The walls were draped in black in honor of Cedric, a thought that caused Sara to tear up. They took their seats at the Gryffindor table, near where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were already sitting. Sara smiled knowingly at Harry, who did his best to return the gesture. She looked up at the staff table and saw the real Moody sitting in his proper seat, looking more nervous than ever. Both his real and magical eyes were darting about, looking for signs of potential danger. The magical eye halted on Sara, and the real one soon followed. She gave him a slight wave, to which he replied with a curt nod—though she noticed his features did soften a bit.

The room fell silent as Dumbledore stood from his seat at the staff table.

"The end of another year," he began somberly, folding his fingers together and staring out at the students. "There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

With tears streaming down her face and George's hand clasping her own, Sara stood and raised her goblet with the rest of the school, muttering, "Cedric Diggory."

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house," Dumbledore went on as the students sat back down. "He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about… Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

A hiss of whispers swept over the students, some of them looking at Dumbledore as if he'd lost his mind.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this," he continued over the whispers. "It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so—either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory… There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death. I am taking, of course, about Harry Potter. Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."

Dumbledore raised his goblet to Harry, and nearly everyone in the hall mimicked his actions—though many of the Slytherins remained in their seats.

"The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding," he went on. "In the light of what has happened—of Lord Voldemort's return—such ties are more important than ever. Every guest in this hall will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all once again—in light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if out aims are identical and our hearts are open."

Sara was distracted from his speech for a moment by Draco who, across the hall at his own table, was laughing. It was quiet laughter, but laughter nonetheless. A sort of blind fury passed over Sara. She squeezed George's hand tighter. She took a deep breath trying to control her anger. She was so tempted to fly across the hall and sock him in the face, but she resisted.

"Remember Cedric," Dumbledore's voice came back to her. "Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

The next morning came all too quickly for the students of Hogwarts. Sara was standing with Fred, George, Angelina, Lee, and Katie, waiting for the carriages. The weather was gorgeous, and Sara and George had been sneaking kisses when they thought no one was looking.

"Excuse me?"

Sara turned instinctively at the sound of the thick Russian accent.

"Ivan!" she exclaimed.

"I just wanted to say goodbye, we will be leaving shortly," he said.

"Of course, of course. So, you'll be done with school then. Any idea where you're headed?" she asked, aware of the fact that George had grabbed her hand discretely.

"I love working with magical creatures, and dragons are fascinating to me. I think maybe I'll go somewhere I can work with them," he shrugged.

"Really?" George piped up. "Well, my brother Charlie works in Romania with dragons, maybe I could give him your name."

"That would be wonderful," Ivan looked surprised. "Here," he handed Sara a slip of parchment. "I would love to hear from you every now and then. And perhaps you could give me a way to contact Charlie as well."

"Sure," Sara smiled warmly at him.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, my princess," he took her free hand and kissed it quickly. "And you, George," he turned to George and extended his hand.

George, though surprised, shook his hand and watched him walk away.

"He really isn't too bad a bloke," George said as the carriages pulled up.

"That's what I tried telling you," Sara laughed and rolled her eyes, pulling him along to snag a carriage.

On the train, they managed to find a completely empty compartment for themselves. Sara had to make a round with the other Prefects, and when she returned she found Fred and George entertaining the girls and Lee with a particularly brutal game of Wizard Chess. She watched them play and read for a while before making her second and final round. She was returning to her compartment when she heard the cold, condescending voice that made her blood boil.

"Father won't tell me much, but I'm sure our house will be a source of a considerable amount of action this summer," Draco said from inside his compartment, which was the next one down from her own.

"Oh, that's so exciting," Pansy cooed.

"Potter won't have anyone on his side, now that everyone thinks he's lying about the Dark Lord returning. Not the cock of the walk anymore, is he?" Draco gloated.

Crabbe and Goyle grunted some sort of approval, and Pansy hooted agreeably.

Sara laughed bitterly, loud enough so that they knew she was there, before returning to her compartment. Horrible though it was, she knew Draco was at least partially right. People really didn't believe that Voldemort had returned. They all thought Harry was a liar. Only those closest to him believed his story. It would be difficult to remain strong against them if so many of them believed him to be insane.

Fred and George had finished their game, and now Angelina and Lee were playing while Katie had fallen asleep. Sara settled between Fred and George and watched them play for a bit.

"What do you reckon they're up to?" Fred asked quietly, pointing toward the door.

Sara looked up and saw Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle ceeping down the hallway. Draco had the confident smirk plastered on his face.

"Reckon we should follow them?" George asked.

Sara didn't wait for a response as she stood and wandered out into the hall, Fred and George right behind her. Draco had disappeared. They were ready to return to their compartment when his drawling voice reached them. They stopped just outside the door.

"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this. Too late now Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well—second—Diggory was the f-"

Before he could finish, Sara had drawn her wand and shouted _"Tarantallegra!"_ But she had not been the only one to do so. Fred and George—and apparently Ron, Harry, and Hermione—had also jinxed them, causing all three of the boys to go down.

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," Fred said, trodding on Goyle and stepping into the compartment.

"Interesting effect," mused George, stepping onto Malfoy. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me," Harry replied.

"Odd," laughed George. "I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face."

"That looked entirely uncomfortable," Sara clucked, looking down at Draco and kicking Crabbe. "I used Tarantallegra, but someone petrified him. That won't be comfortable for long."

Malfoy's legs were splayed in different directions—likely the result of the curse Sara used. She glared down at him before going to sit by Hermione.

"Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the décor," George suggested.

He, Harry, and Ron kicked them out into the corridor and rolled the door shut. The rest of the afternoon was filled with games of Exploding Snap and talk of how crooked Bagman was. Apparently, he'd lost all of his money gambling and ran for it when the goblins he owed came after him. More games of Snap, reading, flirting with George, and before long they had arrived at King's Cross Station.

"Fred—George—wait a moment," Harry called after the twins as they made to follow Ron and Hermione out of the compartment. He reached into his trunk and pulled out the sack of money he'd won from the tournament. "Take it," he said, pushing it into George' arms.

"What?" Fred spluttered.

"Take it. I don't want it," Harry repeated.

"You're mental," George laughed, attempting to give it back.

"No, I'm not. You take it, and get investing. It's for the joke shop."

"He _is_ mental," Fred said.

"Listen," said Harry almost sternly. "If you don't take it, I'm throwing it down the drain. I don't want it and don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to be needing them more than usual before long."

"Harry," George's voice broke, "there's got to be a thousand Galleons in here!"

"Yeah. Think how many Canary Creams that is," Harry chuckled. "Just don't tell your mum where you got it… although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it…"

"Harry," Fred tried once more.

"Look," he interrupted, "take it, or I'll hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me one favor, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they're from you."

Sara laughed aloud as Harry left the compartment. They twins were staring between one another and the sack of money in George's hands. Finally, they both looked toward Sara with a similar expression of awe.

"What do we do?" Fred asked stupidly.

"Here's what we do," she said, stepping forward and taking the money from George. "We put it in your trunk. We make sure your mum doesn't see it. You go out there and thank Harry properly. And then you get to inventing. And then, for now, Fred leaves so I can snog George properly since I won't see him for a while."

Her words snapped them out of their stupor. Fred, laughing, grabbed his trunk and trod on Malfoy on his way out. George took the gold and put it in his trunk beneath his robes. He stood up and found Sara directly in front of him. She grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him toward her, crushing her lips to his. He reached out and slid his arms around her middle, pulling her closer to him. Her fingers curled against the front of his shirt, and she allowed his tongue entrance into her mouth. One of her hands moved up to tangle in his mess of red hair. Finally, they were forced to pull apart for air, each breathing heavily.

"If you don't get your hair cut during the summer, it'll be longer than mine when I see you again," she panted.

"Maybe we'll have to fix that," he laughed.

"I'll miss you," she admitted.

"Believe me, I'll see you before the summer is over. I won't go two months without you," he vowed, laying his forehead against his.

And together, they walked out onto the platform. Together.


	21. Grimmauld Place

Sara was seated at her kitchen table pouring over her most recent summer book. It was raining, so she was trapped inside while her father was at work. He had left her a note that morning that said to be packed up and ready to "go" by this afternoon. It was only mid-August, but she assumed she'd be leaving for the summer, so she packed her trunk for the next school year and hauled it downstairs. That was hours ago. Sara had watched TV, made lunch, and gotten a good chunk of her book read since that time. She was so immersed in her reading that the loud crack that echoed through the room made her scream and fall out of her chair.

"Calm down, you."

Sara looked up at the figure before her. The tall, gangly redhead seemed almost incomplete without his other half, but she was slightly relieved that he had come alone. He extended a hand, which she took gratefully.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as he lifted her to her feet.

But her question went unanswered as he pulled her against him and planted an eager kiss on her parted lips. Her fingers found and tangled themselves in his now short hair, and her tongue playfully countered his as it swept over her own. He pulled away almost regrettably and laid his forehead against hers.

"I've been waiting to do that for weeks," he mumbled.

"You didn't answer my question," she said reproachfully.

"I'm here to collect you. Your father's orders," he winked.

"And where are we going?" she asked.

"A safe house. Here, memorize this, but don't say anything out loud," he said, fishing a piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it to her.

_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

She looked back up at George with a raised eyebrow. He plucked the paper from her hands and set fire to it with his wand.

"Don't forget that, now," he wagged his finger as he reached down to grab her trunk.

"George, will we be staying together for the summer?" she asked with a slight smirk.

"Very eager, aren't you?" he chuckled, but nodded almost shyly.

"George, have you told your mum about us?" she asked, playing with her hands.

"Not yet. Fred and I figured we could get you all set up in our room, then tell her maybe tonight, or tomorrow maybe. It's not like it's just you and me in the room, Fred will be there too. We'll just see how she is," he suggested.

Sara smiled and moved toward him once more. She stood on her tiptoes to press her lips softly against his once more. Her hands rested on his chest.

"How do you know how to read my mind?" she asked coyly.

"Maybe that's why we're a couple," he winked. "Hold on tight now."

Another crack and Sara felt her insides churn as the house around her disappeared. When they hit solid ground, it took all of Sara's bearings to force the vomit back down her throat. She shuddered, and George rubbed her arm apologetically. They were in a dark alleyway that offered no protection from the heavy rain. They ran from the alley toward the apartments just across the street. They stopped just in front of number eleven. Off to its right was number ten, and to the left was number thirteen. She looked up curiously at George.

"Think about what you read," he advised.

She remembered the sheet of paper. _Number twelve, Grimmauld Place._ As the thought crossed her mind, the apartments numbered eleven and thirteen separated and revealed the building numbered twelve. Sara blinked rapidly, partly from the rain and partly from the shock of seeing a building appear from nowhere. George ushered her up to the landing and tapped on the door with his wand. Sara heard many locks and bolts behind the door before it swung open. She and George stepped inside and shut it behind them. George shut the various locks that lined the door while Sara did her best to shake off the water.

"Here," George muttered behind her.

With a flick of his wand, he dried their clothes and Sara sighed contentedly. She looked around the hallway that they were in and opened her mouth to ask George where they were.

"Try to keep quiet through here, don't want to wake her up," he whispered and gestured toward a set of dark velvet curtains.

She nodded dutifully, and George led her through the dark, dreary house. They wandered up the flight of stairs before George suddenly disappeared with a loud crack. Sara jumped and looked around, very aware of how ominous the house actually was. Another crack, and George was next to her again. She gasped at the sound and clutched her chest.

"I'd appreciate some warning," she chided.

"Here's your warning," he chuckled as he took her arm.

"George, wait-" she cried.

They disappeared once more, reappearing in another dreary room. There was a bed, two cots, a very ornate dresser, and an equally gaudy desk. There were spots on the wall that were lighter than the rest, indicating pictures that had been recently taken down.

"Is it easier the second time?" George teased.

"Shut up," she growled, pinching his arm.

"I just want you to get used to it. Fred and I resort to it a lot, and we'll probably be dragging you along now that you're here. A lot of secrets get told here, it's the best way to get answers," he said.

"Where are we?" she asked, dropping down onto the bed.

"This is Sirius Black's home, and the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," he explained, taking a seat next to her.

"…Sirius Black," she said incredulously.

"Yeah, he's innocent of everything, and he's part of the Order too."

"Silly, I know that. Think about who my godfather is," she laughed.

"Oh yeah, sorry," he said bashfully.

"What is this… Order thing?" she asked.

"The Order of the Phoenix. It's a group Dumbledore started, to fight You-Know-Who," he explained. "We're not really allowed to know much more than that, since we aren't a part of it. Actually, your dad stops by every once in a while."

"My dad's a part of the Order?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah, but everyone's all hush-hush about it, so I'm not surprised you don't know anything. We only know because we're living amongst it," he said.

"Is this our room?" she asked, looking around the very dreary room once more.

"It is. We saved the bed for you, but I had to convince Fred a little. He actually conned me into taking a few extra turns on our Skiving Snackbox testing," he grumbled.

"Skiving Snackboxes, eh?" she raised an eyebrow.

"This demure environment has yet to stifle our creativity," he winked.

She didn't offer him a response, only pushed him down on the bed and landed on top of him. She pressed her lips to his and ran her fingers through his short hair. He in turn wrapped his arms around her waist and ran his tongue along her bottom lip. They were so lost in the kiss that they didn't hear the creaking floorboards until they were just outside the room. They sat bolt upright and attempted to reconfigure themselves in time to hear the door open. The mirror image of George stepped into the room and smiled brightly at the sight of Sara.

"Hey there, little girl," he said excitedly, swooping down and tackling her into a hug.

"Hello, love," she laughed.

"Sorry I interrupted. Nice hair, mate," he winked at George.

Sara looked up and noticed how askew she'd left George's hair. She tried to hide her laughter and failed miserably. George rolled his eyes and flattened his hair, the red spreading across his cheeks. Fred plopped down on Sara's other side and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Well, now that you're here, I suppose it would be a good time to proposition her," George muttered, shaking off their interruption.

"Proposition me?" she repeated.

"Well Miss Sara, little Georgie and I have plans to open up a joke shop in the near future," Fred explained.

"If you'll recall, Harry gave us his prize money from the Triwizard Tournament last year and told us to live our dream," George continued.

"Our dream being the shop of course."

"We started small, just putting ads in the _Daily Prophet_ and whatnot-"

"-and started a mail-order service. People seem to want our products!"

"We've been testing out new things too-"

"-mostly on each other."

"And where does my proposition fit in with this?" Sara interrupted their mini-tirade.

"Be patient!" they both said.

"So when we go back to school, hopefully the new things we're working on will be sellable-" George continued.

"-or at the very least safe enough to test on other people."

"We want to know if you'd be interested in being our 'manager' for lack of a better term," George suggested.

"Manage the unmanageable Weasley twins? An impossible feat," she chuckled.

"We'd just need someone responsible who has a good word in with teachers and Dumbledore, in case things go awry. I mean, having a Prefect on our side, that would just take the cake," Fred corrected.

"You'd be more damage control, really. We figured since we already trust you so much, it wouldn't be a difficult jump," George added.

"There is… One more thing," Fred said hesitantly. "We're not very good with the money management aspect of it all."

"We need someone to help us keep track of our finances," George said almost embarrassed.

"You can feel free to say no," they both blurted out at once.

"What reason would I have to say no?" she laughed, wrapping an arm around each of the boys' shoulders. "I never did quite learn how to say no to you two."

"So you'll do it then?" Fred asked excitedly.

"Of course," she rolled her eyes.

Yelling from the floor below interrupted the twins' celebration. They rolled their eyes in unison.

"Sounds like Harry's made it," Fred chuckled.

"How can you possibly tell?" Sara asked incredulously.

"Well, Harry's been about as in the dark as you have about the whole Order of the Phoenix thing," George explained.

"But he's been stuck at his aunt and uncle's house, and Dumbledore forced Ron and Hermione not to tell him anything important," Fred added.

"I guess that makes sense," she recalled Harry telling her about living with his aunt and uncle after accidentally blowing up his uncle's sister.

"Perhaps we should make an appearance," Fred suggested.

He dropped to the ground and pulled up a floorboard. He pulled out what appeared to be flesh-colored string

"Grab on," George extended an arm to Sara.

She rolled her eyes and took his arm. They disappeared with a crack and reappeared in what she assumed was Ron and Harry's new bedroom. Hermione screamed, Harry and Ron both jumped nearly a foot in the air, and the two owls in the room hooted endlessly.

"Stop _doing_ that," Hermione pleaded, leading Sara to believe this Apparating had become a regular thing in the house.

"Afternoon, kids," Sara said.

"Hello, Harry," George smiled. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones."

"You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out," Fred laughed. "There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you."

"You two passed your Apparation tests, then?" Harry asked.

"With distinction," Fred corrected.

"It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs," Ron chided them.

"Time is Galleons, little brother. Anyway, Harry, you're interfering with reception. Extendable Ears," Fred gestured to the item in his hands. "We're trying to hear what's going on downstairs."

Sara and the twins made their way out onto the landing, followed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Fred lowered the Extendable Ear down the stairs toward the closed door at the bottom of the landing. Snippets of the conversation drifted up to them.

"If anyone has a right to know, it's Harry. If it wasn't for Harry, we wouldn't even know Voldemort was back," Sirius's voice rang out clearly. "He's not a child, Molly."

"But he's not an adult either!" Mrs. Weasley argued. "He's not James, Sirius."

"Well, he's not your son," Sirius defended.

"He's as good as," Mrs. Weasley retorted. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got me," Sirius said.

"How touchingly paternal, Black. Perhaps Potter will grow up to be a felon, just like his godfather," Snape's cold voice rang out.

"Now, you stay out of this, Snivellus," Sirius retorted. "I don't care what Dumbledore says about your stupid reformation. I know better."

"So why don't you tell him?" Snape asked harshly.

Only bits and pieces of the conversation wafted up to them as Hermione's cat began to bat at the other end of the Extendable Ear as if it was a plaything. George attempted to pull the ear away from Crookshanks, but the cat was quicker. It ripped the ear off the string and ran away with it. Sara was shaking with laughter, but Fred tossed her a glare as George wound up the string.

"Those are difficult to make," Fred balked.

"It's a bit… Hard to… Care," she said between bouts of laughter.

While Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione made their way downstairs, the twins took Sara's arm and Apparated to their room to return the broken Extendable Ears and then Apparated back downstairs. They appeared right behind Mrs. Weasley, who gave a start.

"Just because you're allowed to use magic now does not mean you have to whip out your wands for everything!" she shouted as they ran. She caught sight of Sara and her expression immediately softened. "Oh, dear, glad to see you made it alright."

She wrapped Sara in a tight hug before turning to Harry. A hand clasped her shoulder and she looked up to see her godfather standing to her left.

"Uncle Remus," she said happily, hugging him as well.

"You're looking well," he said, looking down at her.

"You're looking tired," she replied honestly. "Full moon's just passed, hasn't it?"

"Come, let's go eat," he ignored her statement, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and led her into the kitchen.

She took a seat between George and Lupin. They ladled out stew and sliced up bread for everyone. Mrs. Weasley remained hard at work at the stove. Sara watched George make faces at Crookshanks, who seemed to be eyeing him with particular interest. The conversations around the table varied, and Sara caught snippets of each one before quickly losing interest. She and George had started an interesting game of footsie under the table. However, when talk turned serious, their game ended. Sirius showed Harry a copy of the _Daily Prophet_, which had taken to deliberately smearing his and Dumbledore's names whenever possible. It was the general consensus that Fudge was trying to cover up Voldemort's return as best as he could.

"We think," Sirius announced, "Voldemort wants to build up his army again. Fourteen years ago, he had huge numbers at his command. And not just witches and wizards, but all manner of dark creatures. He's been recruiting heavily, and we've been attempting to do the same. But gathering followers isn't the only thing he's interested in." The entire table was listening intently now. "We believe Voldemort may be after something. Something he didn't have last time."

Sirius was ignoring Moody's attempts to shut him up. Mrs. Weasley had ceased her cooking to stare almost murderously at Sirius.

"You mean, like a weapon?" Harry asked.

"No," Mrs. Weasley interrupted firmly, throwing down her knife. "That's enough. He's just a boy. You say much more and you might as well induct him into the Order straight away."

"Good, I want to join! If Voldemort's raising an army, then I want to fight!" Harry exclaimed.

Sara bit her lip nervously and looked over at George. He shrugged almost imperceptibly. Mrs. Weasley ushered all of them off to bed, and Sara and George wordlessly decided that tonight was not the night to rile up Mrs. Weasley anymore. They retired to their room and waited for the footsteps to disappear.

"We're going to talk to Ron and Harry," Fred said definitively.

"Good, I need to change," Sara replied.

The boys disappeared with a loud crack and Sara could have sworn that she heard the crack of them reappearing below. She rummaged through her trunk and pulled out her pajamas. She changed quickly, unsure of how soon they might be back. She had just pulled her shirt down when the crack echoed through the room once more. Both boys had their eyes closed.

"I'm dressed, it's fine," she laughed.

"Well, your throne awaits, my princess," Fred gestured toward the bed.

"Shut up, I'm doing your bookkeeping for free, aren't I?" she retorted.

"Doing a little more than just our _bookkeeping_ though, aren't you?" Fred taunted.

"Oh, Fred Gideon Weasley!" she yelled.

She made to throw her pillow at him, but he Disapparated with a wink and a crack. George rolled his eyes and laughed. Sara glared at the spot where Fred had stood only moments before. She turned her attention to George as he moved closer to her. He rested a hand against her cheek and smiled down at her.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured, emphasizing it with a short kiss.

"Well I'm glad I'm here too," she said.

She snuggled under the warm blankets and George moved his cot right up next to the bed. Fred Apparated back into the room, dropped onto his own cot, and turned off the lights with a wave of his wand. Sara reached down and took George's hand in her own before falling into a very restful slumber.

Sara was awoken rather abruptly the next morning when a heavy body dropped onto her own. She cried out, but her mouth was swiftly covered. She cracked open her eyes and immediately rolled them.

"What are you doing?" she mumbled, though it came out more like "Huah har hoo ooin?"

George laughed and replaced his hand with his lips. He feverishly kissed Sara, which successfully woke her up. Just as she found herself enjoying the taste of his minty toothpaste, he pulled away.

"Suppose that's all it'll take to wake you up now," he chuckled. "Mum says we're cleaning today, so you have to get up."

"Can we just stay here all day?" she groaned.

"Don't tempt me," he smirked.

"I'll let you do naughty things to me," she murmured seductively.

George's face flushed a bit and Sara kissed the tip of his nose cutely. He rolled his eyes and stood up, seeming to have some trouble removing the blush from his cheeks.

"Breakfast is ready downstairs. I have to go wake up Ron and Harry," he said quickly before disappearing with a crack.

Sara smiled as she sat up and stretched. She vowed to make George blush more often as she gathered up her clothes and headed for the bathroom. When she wandered downstairs, she discovered only Mrs. Weasley and her father.

"Daddy!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, Sara," he smiled.

He stood from his chair and scooped her up into a giant hug that pulled her up off the floor. She was taken aback, but laughed as she patted her father's shoulder.

"Daddy, what on earth?" she asked.

"Darlin', I got the results of yehr O.W.L.s in the mail today. Outstanding in every subject. Y'are yehr mother's daughter," he laughed.

"I didn't… No way," she murmured.

"See for yehrrself," he said, passing her the letter.

Sure enough, next to each of her 10 subjects, the letter O was written in bold letters. She smiled down at the parchment.

"Sara, darling, congratulations!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "We'll have to celebrate somehow."

"Celebrate what?" Fred asked as he and George entered the room.

"Sara's O.W.L. results! All Outstandings!" Mrs. Weasley beamed.

"We always knew you had it in you! Our little nerd," Fred teased.

George looked between Sara and her father, and Sara realized what he wanted to do. He looked over at Fred, who—by some sort of twin telepathy—seemed to understand.

"I'm, ah, gonna make sure the girls are up," he excused himself, quickly edging out the door.

"Darlin', this is wonderful," her father said cheerily.

"Daddy, while I've got you here, there's something I want to tell you," Sara sidled closer to George.

"And mum, I need to tell you as well," George said.

"What is it, dear?" she asked.

"Well, ah, it's… Well, Sara and I, we're sort of…" he stuttered.

"Dating," Sara finished his sentence.

For a moment, their parents merely stared at them. But then, in unison, their faces broke out in wide smiles.

"I always knew it would be either you or Fred," Mrs. Weasley laughed.

"I'd assumed it would be you, George. She talks a little more about you," Liam winked.

"Wait… You're not… Surprised?" Sara asked incredulously.

"Well, dear, if it was bound to happen, the timing is really the only thing that could surprise us," Mrs. Weasley explained.

"You take care of my daughter at school this year, George," her father said seriously. "And don't you or Fred get her into any trouble. I have to be off to work though."

He kissed his daughter swiftly on the forehead, smirked knowingly at George, and Disapparated.

"Are you hungry, dears?" Mrs. Weasley asked, gesturing for them to sit.

They were very aware of Mrs. Weasley's constant grinning throughout the day. More than once, Sara caught her eye, and she would always look away with a satisfied smile.

The house was not in the best shape. Thick layers of dirt covered most of the surfaces. Today, they were attempting to rid the house of doxies and grime. When Mrs. Weasley disappeared downstairs to yell at Mundungus for bringing stolen cauldrons to the house, a house elf sidled into the room muttering to himself. Sara looked over at George, but he just rolled his eyes.

"Hello, Kreacher," Fred said loudly as he closed the door.

"Kreacher did not see Young Master," the elf said faking a look of surprise. He bowed low, then muttered, "Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is."

"Sorry? Didn't catch that last bit," George glared at the elf.

"Kreacher said nothing," he replied, but the undertone continued. "And there's it's twin, unnatural little beasts they are."

Sara was in astonishment as the elf went on to insult Hermione, who was nothing but polite to him. His eyes stopped on Harry and he examined him.

"Is it true? Is it Harry Potter? Kreacher can see the scar, it must be true, that's that boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher wonders how he did it…"

"Don't we all, Kreacher?" Fred interrupted his musings.

"What do you want anyway?" George snapped.

"Kreacher is cleaning," he replied.

He continued surveying the group. His eyes passed over Sara and onto Ginny, then snapped back to stare at Sara. He drew in a great breath before flinging himself to the floor in a bow.

"Ah… Well, hello there," Sara said, looking down at the elf at her feet.

"What are you doing, Kreacher?" said a voice at the door.

It was Sirius, and the glare he gave Kreacher was one of utter contempt. Kreacher looked up at the voice and begrudgingly crawled to Sirius's feet.

"Kreacher is cleaning," he repeated. "Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of Black-"

"-and it's getting blacker every day, it's filthy," Sirius interrupted coldly.

It was evident that Sirius loathed Kreacher, but Sara wasn't really listening to their argument. She was looking down at the elf with interest. He had bowed to her after insulting all of her other companions…

"Now go away, Kreacher," Sirius ordered.

Kreacher obeyed with a last, longing look back at Sara before exiting the room. All the while, he muttered loud enough for them to hear.

"-comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he's back, they say he's a murderer too. Oh, why could Kreacher not serve the girl, her mother was more deserving than this-"

"Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!" Sirius shouted. He slammed the door and looked immediately at Sara. "Seems I'm not the one he _really_ wants to listen to," he murmured, his voice laced with frustration.

"I… I'm sorry, Sirius," Sara apologized, looking rather embarrassed.

"Why did he bow to you?" George asked Sara.

"Well… He… I mean," she stuttered.

"It's no wonder, you look just like her," Sirius sighed, losing the edge in his voice.

"What are you taking about?" Fred asked.

"Do you remember what my father told me last year? My mother was a Black.."

The room was uncomfortably silent as they digested the information Sara had just given them.

"The only other Black that I got on with who wasn't later disowned, actually," Sirius broke the silence.

He wandered over to a tapestry that hung the length of the wall—likely what Kreacher had been trying to salvage—and the others followed closely behind him. It was titled **"The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black: 'Toujours Pur.'"**A family tree dating back to the Middle Ages was sprawled across it.

"You're not on here!" Harry exclaimed.

"I used to be there," he corrected, pointing to a blackened hole in the tapestry that looked as if it had been burned off. "My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home—Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath."

"You ran away from home?" Harry repeated.

"When I was about sixteen. I'd had enough," Sirius sighed.

He told them how he'd gone to the Potter's home and basically been adopted as a second son. He told them how his brother, Regulus, had joined, left, and been killed by the Death Eaters. When Mrs. Weasley brought in lunch, most everyone moved over to her and ate hungrily—everyone except Sirius, Harry, and Sara. Sirius was musing about the various pictures to Harry, but Sara wasn't listening. She'd fallen to her knees on the dirty floor to stare at one of the pictures. It was a branch of the tree one section away from Sirius's family. There had originally been four pictures in the line, but the second one had been burnt in a similar fashion as Sirius's. The names read Bellatrix, Andromeda (the burnt picture), Narcissa, and Emmeline. The three sisters pictured looked incredibly different from one another. Bellatrix had dark hair and dark, hooded eyes. Narcissa had hair both black and white-blond to the point where it was hard to tell which color she had started with; her eyes were a piercing blue like her son's. Emmeline had golden blond hair bright as the sun and lovely emerald eyes. Emmeline's picture was connected to a picture of a man with dirty blond hair and blue eyes: Liam Roth. Beneath them was a picture of a toddler strikingly similar to her mother: Sara Roth. Sara ran her finger over the picture of Emmeline.

"Your mother was quite something," Sirius muttered, now leaning down next to Sara.

"Tell me about her… Please. Dadddy doesn't talk about her much," Sara pleaded to Sirius, still staring down at the picture.

"Well, she was brilliant. She ended up in Ravenclaw because of that—though I always thought she'd do well in Gryffindor. Maybe for the best though, since she got to stay in the family. She was in the year above me, your dad too. She was smart, beautiful, kind… All qualities I've heard you've picked up from her," he sighed.

Sara was vaguely aware of George appearing next to her while Sirius spoke, dropping to his knees, and peering intently at her.

"You look just like her," he murmured, gazing at the picture of her mother.

"Dad always says that," she choked out. "Sirius… I… There's something else daddy won't ever talk about. Please… What happened to her?"

Sirius looked down at her with a shocked expression.

"Your dad's never told you?" he asked.

"He told me she was killed by a Death Eater, but no one knows who. He won't tell me more. Please, Sirius," she begged.

"Well… It… No one really knows what happened. Your dad had taken you to see Remus that day while your mum was at work. When he got home, the Dark Mark was over the house. He found your mum… She was… Whoever killed her didn't just want her dead, they wanted her to suffer. It wasn't just the _Avada Kedavra_, she was tortured."

Sara knew that all of the blood had drained from her face. George took her hand and she grasped his tightly.

"No one knows who did it?" she muttered.

"No," he replied.

"Thank you, Sirius," she said.

"Sure. I just… I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you about it," he patted her shoulder.

She sighed shakily, trying to fight off the tears she knew were coming. She looked almost pityingly at George. He glanced over at his mother, who was all but stuffing sandwiches down Harry's throat. With a crack, he and Sara disappeared. They landed with another crack on the bed in their room. It seemed they'd made it just in time as Sara broke down. George pulled her against him and rocked her back and forth, letting her cry on his shoulder.

"How old were you?" George asked once her crying had calmed, running his fingers through her soft blond hair.

"One," she replied. "I… I don't remember anything about her… Except what other people have told me."

"Your dad doesn't like to talk about her?"

"Now that I know how she… I expect it's too painful for him. They were so in love," she sniffled.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he wiped the stray tears from her cheek.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "Thank you, George."

She looked up at him with her large green eyes and he felt his heart thumping madly, the way it used to before they were dating. She just looked as if he was her hero.

"Anytime," he replied, kissing her forehead. "But we should get back before we're too missed."

They Disapparated with a pop and returned to the drawing room. The sound no longer surprised the inhabitants of the house, and the only people who looked up were Mrs. Weasley and Fred. Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly at him before looking away. Sirius appeared behind them.

"I gave her the synopsis, just so it didn't look fishy," he whispered to them.

"Thank you," they both said before going to help with the cabinets.

Over the next few days, they finished cleaning the drawing room and moved on to the dining room. The only people in the house aware of Sara and George's relationship were Fred and Mrs. Weasley, and neither one said a word. Of course, they were more flirty than normal, but no one seemed to notice.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place turned out to be a very busy establishment. People came and went multiple times a day, and every time Sara and the others tried to listen in. The caught snippets of conversations, though out of context they never seemed to make any sense. Harry's name was often mentioned, but that was really the only distinguishable bit of information.

Kreacher had taken to secretly following Sara around the house—much to Sirius's chagrin. She was sitting on the couch between Fred and George one night when she complained about being cold. Moments later, Kreacher stumbled around the corner and dropped a blanket at her feet before running back into hiding.

"Oh, thank you," she called after the elf.

"Looks like someone's got an admirer," George mumbled, pulling the blanket up to cover them both.

"Well, if he lives to serve the house of Black, I'm the closest thing here, after Sirius," she shrugged.

On a dingy Thursday morning, Mr. Weasley took Harry to work with him for his hearing—apparently he'd produced a patronus in front of his cousin to save them from dementors and subsequently been expelled from Hogwarts. However, he returned that afternoon with the announcement that the charges had been dropped. The air of the house had lightened considerably since then.

Sara woke up the last morning of the summer holiday with George lying on top of her. She didn't even need to open her eyes to know it was him.

"No," she said simply, trying to burrow beneath the blanket.

She felt his lips press eagerly against her own. Though she was still waking up, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. A loud crack filled the room, and suddenly they were not alone.

"Break it up, kids, I want to see daylight between you two," Fred chided.

Fred sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed George off. He fell to the floor with a thud. Sara sat up and looked down pityingly at him.

"Booklists are here," he announced, handing Sara hers and dropping George's onto the floor where he was seated glowering.

Sara opened her letter and found three different pieces of parchment—the reminder for when term started, the booklist, and the confirmation that she would be continuing her duties as a sixth-year prefect.

"Well, looks like I still get to be a prefect. I'm surprised they don't just take it away, knowing that I'm friends with you two," she teased.

"Ah, I bet Hermione's opening her prefect letter now. Harry as well," George noted, standing up from his spot on the floor and pushing Fred off the bed as well.

"We should go check on the little tykes," Fred suggested. "And you should get up," he said to Sara.

They disappeared with a crack, leaving Sara to get dressed in the room without their interference. After wandering out of the bathroom, she went downstairs to Harry and Ron's bedroom, which was quite packed with people.

"So, what's the verdict?" she asked, plopping down on the bed.

"Ron and I are going to be the Gryffindor prefects!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Well congratulations!" Sara said cheerily. She chanced a glance toward Harry, who was keeping to himself.

Mrs. Weasley bustled in, telling them that she'd go into Diagon Alley to get their books and anything else they needed. Fred broke the news and told her that he ha been chosen as prefect. Mrs. Weasley shrieked loudly when Ron held out the badge.

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!" she exclaimed, pushing through Fred and George to Ron.

"What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?" asked George with an air of indignation as he dropped down onto the bed next to Sara. Fred took a seat on her other side.

Mrs. Weasley doted over Ron and, when she offered him a present for his achievement, he quickly asked for a new broom. Sara could sense Fred and George tense up next to her—she knew both of the boys had grown tired of riding their second-hand brooms. Still, Mrs. Weasley bustled off, leaving Ron to defend himself against Fred and George.

"You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Ron?" asked Fred in a fake voice.

"We could curtsy, if you like," George suggested.

"Oh, shut up," Ron said feebly.

"Or what? Going to put us in detention?" Fred threatened.

"I'd love to see him try," George challenged.

"He may not want to put you in detention, but I certainly wouldn't mind, you know, take you down a peg," Sara glared up at George.

"I'd love to see you try as well," he sniggered.

"You want to tempt me? I know too much about the both of you for you to do that," she threatened.

"Looks like we'll have to stay on the right side of the law now, won't we Fred?" George laughed.

"Looks like our law-breaking days are over," Fred sighed dramatically.

"Shut up," Sara rolled her eyes, punching George's arm.

Without warning, he lifted her up, threw her over his shoulder, and Disapparated.

"You're both stupid," Sara grumbled, shoving herself out of George's grip.

"You know you can't hate us for it, though," Fred winked.

Sara rolled her eyes, but the faintest of smiles ghosted across her face and the twins knew they were off the hook.

They spent the remainder of the day searching the house for their scattered belongings. They were searching in the sitting room in the early evening, checking that the room was clear of anything they might need to take back to school with them. Fred had already found his broomstick among the stacks of firewood ("How did this even get down here?" he'd asked. "I don't remember even taking it out of my trunk!"). Sara was on all fours, searching beneath one of the couches.

"I can't find my book anywhere," she complained.

"Which one?" George asked, lifting up the cushions of the armchairs.

"_A Genealogy of Healing_," she replied, her voice slightly muffled beneath the couch. "I know I had it out a few nights ago, where could it have-"

She was interrupted by a loud crack that caused her to knock her head against the bottom of the couch in alarm. She sat up and discovered Kreacher standing before her in a low bow, her book hovering just in front of her, clasped tightly between his gnarled fingers.

"Oh, ah, thank you, Kreacher," she said, taking the book from him.

"The young mistress thanks Kreacher, just as her mother did… Is there anything else the young mistress desires?" Kreacher asked, staring straight at the ground.

"Well… Have you noticed anything else lying about that might belong to one of us? We seem to have misplaced a few essentials during our stay," she said.

If at all possible, he bowed even lower before Disapperating once more. Fred and George were staring incredulously at Sara.

"I reckon you're the only one he'd ever take orders from," George mused.

"No, I'm just the most appealing option in the house at the moment," she muttered.

Another crack, and Kreacher had returned with a small armload of belongings—two pairs of socks, a knit cap, a few trick wands and bits of "toffee" Sara recognized to be Fred and George's, one of the sweaters Sara had received from Mrs. Weasley, hair ties and bobby pins, and (Sara gasped when she saw it) the gold and sapphire bracelet she'd received anonymously last Christmas.

"Oh, Kreacher, I'm so glad I didn't leave this," she exclaimed as she stuffed everything else into Fred and George's arms before carefully taking the bracelet from him. "Where did you find it?"

"It had rolled under the young mistress's dresser, Kreacher noticed when he was tidying up," he replied dutifully.

"Thank you so much, Kreacher," Sara smiled warmly down at the elf.

"At first Kreacher wondered what it could be doing back here, after my mistress passed it on in her will," Kreacher went on, as if he couldn't stop himself. "Then Kreacher realized it must have passed to you."

"Yes, it was my mother's, apparently," she said, looking down at the bracelet with a warm smile.

"Is there anything else the young mistress requires?" he asked.

"No, thank you for your help, Kreacher," she smiled at the elf.

He bowed deeply before Disapparating a final time. They finished packing up their trunks before heading down to dinner. A large banner had been hung up that read "Congratulations Ron and Hermione—New Prefects." Though Fred and George looked a bit sour, Mrs. Weasley looked happier than they'd seen her all summer. Members of the Order came slowly trickling in. Sara was talking to Lupin and Tonks when a clunking stopped just behind her. She turned to see Mad-Eye Moody (the real one) looking down at her.

"Hello, sir," she said sheepishly.

"Sara… Growing to be even more like your mother, I see," he replied gruffly.

Hearing him use her first name did wonders to ease the knot of tension in her stomach. The fake Moody from the year before had always called her "Roth." This was the real Moody, she had no doubt.

"It's good to see you, sir," she smiled more confidently now.

"And you. Your father wanted me to tell you he's sorry he can't come see you before you leave. He's being worked to the bone," Moody growled.

"Well, thank you, sir," Sara smiled up at him.

"Oh, Alastor, I am glad you're here," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, appearing behind him. "We've been wanting to ask you for ages—could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what's inside it? We haven't wanted to open it just in case it was something really nasty."

"No problem, Molly," he replied.

His magical eye swiveled up and stared at the ceiling.

"Drawing room… Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it… Yeah, it's a boggart… Want me to go up and get rid of it, Molly?" he asked, the eye swiveling back down.

"No, no, I'll do it myself later," she beamed, ushering him toward the drinks.

"It's nice to have the real Moody back," she sighed, turning back to Lupin and Tonks.

"I'll bet!" Tonks laughed. "Crouch couldn't have been a very great teacher."

"He used the Imperius curse on us," Sara said, shaking her head.

"Damn," Tonks said.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley said loudly, "I think a toast is in order. To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor Prefects!"

They raised their glasses and toasted Ron and Hermione, who blushed under the attention. Sara spent a good portion of the evening hopping around to different conversations, eventually stopping at Fred and George.

"What were you talking to Mundungus for?" she asked, having noticed their shady dealings when talking to Lupin and Hermione.

"Oh, that? You saw that, did you?" George said nervously.

"Yes, I did. So?" she crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him.

"You know, you remind me of mum when you do that," Fred noted.

"Oh, I'll get to you. What. Was. That. About?" she asked, punctuating each word forcefully.

"We just… We just needed something that we can't get from anyone else. They're not tradeable, and he can get them for us," George insisted.

"George, if it's illegal, it's going to get you in trouble," she tapped her foot impatiently.

"Please don't be mad," he pouted, pulling her against him.

"George…" she narrowed her eyes up at him.

"Please," he repeated, laying his forehead against hers.

She huffed, but her arms dropped to her sides and her expression turned from one of frustration to one of concern.

"You can't afford a fine, or, Merlin forbid, an expulsion," she chided.

"We're not gonna get in trouble," he urged, giving her a quick peck on the lips.

"You two are so cute, it's sickening," Fred rolled his eyes.

"Thanks," they both replied.

A scream floated down the hall from up the stairs. In an instant, Lupin, Sirius, and Moody were running toward the source of the noise, leaving everyone else to speculate. Harry and Mrs. Weasley were also gone. It was a short time before Mrs. Weasley and the three men came back downstairs. Mrs. Weasley looked shaken, but alright.

"Mum, are you okay?" Fred asked, putting an arm around her shoulder.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied, wrapping both arms tightly around her son. "Just a boggart… Just a boggart…"

"She's fine," Lupin said, coming up behind them. "A little scare, that's all."

"Mum, you've got a good grip," Fred winced, pulling at her arms.

"If I ever lost any of you, I don't know what I'd do," she muttered, undeterred by Fred's pulling.

"You're gonna be the one responsible for losing me if you don't ease up on your grip, mum," Fred continued prying at his arms.

Sara and George laughed. When Sara caught Lupin's eye, she noticed the look he was giving her. She realized George's arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and hers was wrapped around his waist. She blushed a little, but his expression lightened up. He shrugged and gave her a very understanding smile before heading over to Kingsley and Moody.

"I'm so happy you two are together," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, looking over at Sara and George.

Both of them blushed red and stuttered without making much sense. Mrs. Weasley laughed, gave Fred one more squeeze, and went over to harass Ron.

"What was that about?" Fred asked, rubbing the spot where her arms had been.

"You're lucky to have her," Sara said, smiling after the retreating Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah," Fred said, a little embarrassed.

Sara tried to stifle a yawn, but failed miserably. George laughed at her poor attempt.

"Bedtime," he said.

"You can't tell me what to do," she chided.

"If I go up, will you come with me?" he asked.

"I suppose," she yawned, not bothering to stifle it now.

"Barf," Fred teased.

"Shut up," Sara said, hitting his arm.

After a few quick goodnights, Sara and George headed up to bed, leaving Fred to mingle with the others (though, in his words, he didn't want to "cockblock" anyone tonight). They Apparated upstairs, and before George knew what had happened, Sara had knocked him onto the bed, her lips crashing down on his. Their tongues were entwined in a battle of wills, and her fingers were tangled in his short hair—something she still very much enjoyed. Her lips trailed down his jawline, and he shivered when she nibbled on his earlobe. He felt her tongue in the shell of his ear, and he groaned.

"George," she whispered huskily.

"Yeah?" he replied shakily, running his hands over her back.

"I'M COMING IN!"

The door flew open and Fred barged in, completely ignoring the couple on the bed. Sara sat up and rolled her eyes.

"What was that about not wanting to cockblock tonight?" George fumed, sitting up and running his hand through his hair.

"Yeah, well, everyone else was heading out," he shrugged.

"Dick," George mumbled, Disapparating for the bathroom.

Sara sighed and got out her pajamas. This would be the last night she spent in this house—at least until Christmas holiday, if they came back here. Fred left the room and she changed quickly before they got back. By the time they settled in and turned the lights off, she was asleep with her fingers twined around George's.


	22. Umbridge

The time came, as it always did, to say goodbye for the term. Sara had no sooner left the bedroom when she heard shouting. Mrs. Weasley was screaming from the bottom of the stairs, and her shouts had awoken the shrieking painting of Mrs. Black. Sara timidly approached the landing and found Fred and George grumbling to themselves. Mrs. Weasley had taken her shouting to the kitchen.

"What on earth?" Sara asked, placing her trunk next to theirs and Ginny's.

"It was an accident," Fred mumbled.

"Ginny was fine," George added.

"She uses magic to make things easier all the time."

"I don't think I want to know," she sighed.

Harry left with Mrs. Weasley and Tonks while Sara helped herself to toast. Shortly after, Mr. Weasley departed with Ron and Hermione. Finally, Lupin shuffled into the kitchen wearing a tattered suit.

"Ready?" he asked.

Sara, Ginny, and the twins followed him out of the house. Their luggage was gone—taken away by Moody, Lupin said. They made the brisk walk to the train in about 15 minutes, and when they arrived at Platform 9¾, their trunks were waiting for them. Mrs. Weasley gave them all hugs. Sara and the twins dragged their luggage onto the train and waved hurried goodbyes to their escorts.

"He shouldn't have come with us," Hermione said, referring to Sirius, who'd accompanied Harry in the form of a large black dog.

"Oh, lighten up, he hasn't seen daylight for months, poor bloke," Ron said.

"Well," Fred announced excitedly, "can't stand around chatting all day, we've got business to discuss with Lee. See you later."

Sara followed Fred and George down the corridor until they found Lee sprawled across one of the benches.

"Morning," he yawned, sitting up and stretching.

"More like afternoon," Fred laughed, sitting down next to him.

"I have to go, Prefect meeting," Sara said, stashing her trunk beneath the seats.

"Good, we've got business you can't know about anyway," Fred said, earning him a punch in the arm.

"I'll be back," she said, kissing George quickly and heading to the Prefect's compartment.

She arrived to find Hermione, Ron, Anthony Goldstein, and Padma Patil already there. Sara took a seat next to Hermione and waited.

"I hope Harry isn't upset," Hermione worried, wringing her hands.

"He'll be fine," Sara waved it off. "This is probably the least of his worries right now."

The compartment door slid open and Sara had to hold in her gag. Cormac McLaggen strutted in as if he owned the compartment, taking the seat next to Sara without asking.

"Good holiday?" he asked her offhandedly.

"Sure," she replied.

"Well, mine was smashing, my uncle Tiberius and I-"

Sara quickly stopped listening to him. She looked over at Hermione with a "kill me" look, which made the younger girl laugh. The rest of the Prefects came in, the six Hufflepuffs entering together, then the other Gryffindors, then the other four Ravenclaws. Finally, the Slytherins snuck in just before the Head Boy and Girl—Draco, unsurprisingly, among them. The meeting was brief, then they were set out to patrol the corridors. Sara was forced to endure more time with Cormac as he talked about his summer, his classes, and his own preoccupied self.

"Well, it's been lovely, Cormac, but I've got to get back now," Sara said loudly, interrupting one of his ramblings.

"Oh, sure. Do you want to do your second round with me?" he asked, suddenly returning to reality.

"Oh, I don't know, I think I might show Ron and Hermione the ways of the trade," she said. "Bye."

She slipped down the corridor and out of Cormac's sight. She had very little intention, however, of finding Ron and Hermione quite yet. As she wandered back to her compartment, she considered that she'd have to keep a close eye on Draco, since he'd likely be trying to cause trouble for Harry with his new position of power. When she pulled open the door, she had to do a double take. The compartment was empty save for the four trunks. Shrugging to herself, she stepped inside and closed the door. Since she had nothing better, she dug into her trunk and pulled out a roll of parchment, a quill, a bottle of ink, and the pile of parchment scraps the boys had given her. As their accountant of sorts, they had documented for her every financial transaction they'd made with the money Harry gave them—unfortunately, "documented" meant that they'd scribbled what they'd bought and what they'd spent on the corner of a piece of parchment and ripped it off. They had given her a pile of parchment scraps with random amounts written on it. She set to work, starting with 1000 Galleons and subtracting each transaction from it. Fred and George were lucky their handwriting was messy, because some of the things they had bought were quite illegal and Sara could be considered an accessory if she could read them properly. She'd made it about halfway through the stack when the compartment door slid open.

"Look how productive you are," George smiled, sliding the door shut behind him.

"You have bought some very illegal shit, Mr. Weasley," she chided, balling up the torn parchment and throwing it onto the pile.

"So it's Mr. Weasley now, is it?" he asked, sliding onto the seat beside her.

"When I'm doing your accounting, it is," she corrected.

"What if I don't want to be Mr. Weasley?" he said, his lips rather close to her ear.

"Then whatever shall I call you?" she asked coyly, balling up another piece of parchment.

"We haven't really figured that out, have we?" he replied, his voice low and dangerous.

"I feel as if the Hogwarts Express isn't a very appropriate place to figure it out," she said calmly, though it was torturing her to do so.

"We're alone," he noted, taking the parchment off of her lap and capping the ink, setting it safely inside her open trunk.

"Very astute," she replied with a laugh.

In an instant, she was lifted from her seat and onto his lap, straddling his legs. She gasped loudly, and he took the opportunity to cover her lips with his own, letting his tongue glide deftly over hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let her fingers tangle in his hair. Occasionally he would nibble on her bottom lip, something she was quickly finding drove her crazy. She could feel his hands on her hips, trying to decide what to do with them. When she had to pull away for air, his lips continued down her jaw and just behind her ear, where he nibbled the tender flesh.

Sara decided that she wanted to be daring. Without warning, she ground her pelvis against his. He growled at the friction, and Sara gasped. She could feel him through his pants, already hard. She couldn't resist and ground her hips down again.

"George," she whispered huskily.

"That," he said suddenly, his hands tightening around her hips.

"What?" she asked, looking down at him.

"I want you to call me that," he said.

"Call you what?" she asked.

He lifted his hips up to grind them against hers, seeking that friction.

"George," she gasped.

"That's what I want you to call me," he said, running his hands up her sides.

"I already call you that," she panted.

"But I want you to say it like that," he urged. "Not just the way anyone else says it. The way you say it when you want me."

For emphasis, he thrust his hips up once more.

"George," she whimpered, her grip around his shoulders tightening.

"Like that. Just like that," he said.

He returned his attention to her lips, his hands still wandering up and down her sides. When his thumbs skimmed the sides of her breasts, she smiled into the kiss.

"What?" he asked, pulling back.

"You don't have to be so timid about it," she laughed.

He blushed crimson, looking down at his hands, which were once again at her waist. He slid them slowly—painfully slowly—up her sides. His thumbs rested just under the swell of her breasts. She ground down against him for good measure, whispering his name again. However, their shining moment was interrupted by a shrill voice just outside the compartment door.

"We should check inside some of the compartments, Drakey, maybe we can give some people detentions early," the piercing voice of Pansy Parkinson rang through the corridor. "Let's look in here."

The compartment door slid back, revealing Draco and Pansy.

"What's going on here?" Draco asked, stepping inside.

Sara looked up at him with a bored expression. She was seated on the bench with her parchment and quill in hand. George had his arms folded, head on her shoulder, and eyes closed. They looked perfectly acceptable.

"I can't see why that's any of your business, Draco," she said calmly, her face wearing an expression of contempt.

"What gives you the right to talk to him that way?" Pansy practically shrieked.

"Oh, you mean you haven't jumped at the chance to tell all your little friends? Go on, Drakey. They can know, I don't care," Sara goaded.

"What is she talking about?" Pansy asked, looking up at him.

The color had drained from his face. Apparently he was in fact not prepared to tell people that Sara was his cousin. Without another word, he turned tail and strode from the compartment. Pansy glared at Sara before following him, not bothering to shut the door behind her. Sara sighed a deep, frustrated sigh.

"Don't let him get to you," George said, sitting up.

"Easier said than done," she grumbled, picking up another slip of parchment.

Not five minutes had gone by when Fred and Lee returned to the compartment, making Sara and George glad they had stopped when they did. They rode the rest of the train ride in peace. Sara made another round—alone—before the train pulled in at the station. She, Fred, George, and Lee rode up to the castle together, where they took their seats at the Gryffindor table. Sara and George spent most of the sorting guessing which house each student would be in (Sara won) and the food appeared, much to George and Fred's delights. They ate happily, and when the food on George's plate was gone, he decided to steal some from Sara's.

"What on earth are you doing?" she asked as she watched him spear a potato and pop it into his mouth.

"I'm still hungry," he replied, stealing a green bean.

"There's plenty of food here!" she exclaimed, gesturing toward the dishes laden with food.

"Maybe I just like getting you riled up," he smirked.

"Getting me upset with you, or getting me riled up?" she asked quietly, discretely laying her hand on his thigh for just a second before returning to her dinner.

He leaned closer to her, his lips grazing her ear. He covered up for it by taking a potato from her plate and pushing it onto his own.

"I suppose I did enjoy riling you up on the train," he whispered.

"Not the time, George," she muttered, blushing furiously, stealing the potato back and popping it into her own mouth.

He smirked triumphantly, ladling more potatoes onto his plate. The fact that he had managed to make her blush meant a victory for George.

"So how are we looking, Sara? We haven't spent to much, have we?" Fred asked, leaning around his brother and speaking only loud enough for her and George to hear.

"Despite how much I deplore you purchasing these incredibly illegal products, I must say you're getting everything at a very good price," she admitted.

"Excellent," he rubbed his hands together, helping himself to seconds.

The volume level escalated in the room when everyone had finished their desserts. Sara leaned back against George and sighed contentedly. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bed and go to sleep—though she did wish George could join her. The room quieted down when Dumbledore stood from his seat and raised his arms in greeting to the students.

"Well," he began, looking out at them all with his kind smile, "now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few minutes of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds in out of bounds to students—and a few of our older students ought to know by now too. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door. We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

A polite round of applause sounded through the students for the two professors. Sara guessed that the more weathered-looking woman was the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, as she couldn't see the toad-like woman in pink caring for a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Sara had a feeling that Defense Against the Dark Arts would not be as fun as it had been for the past two years.

"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the-"

Dumbledore broke off suddenly, turning to look at Umbridge. It was difficult to tell, but she had stood from her chair and was peering intently at him. Apparently, she did not know that this was absolutely not the norm, because she merely cleared her throat with a _"Hem, hem,"_ and began to speak.

"Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome," she smiled toothily. "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy faces looking back at me! I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

"That's likely," Fred and George both muttered.

"What does she think she's doing?" Sara whispered, looking up at her with wide eyes.

"The Ministry of Magic," she continued, "has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Sara was glad to see that the teachers looked nearly as flabbergasted as she did. Professor Sprout looked as if a Mandrake had just screamed in her face, and Snape looked more disgusted than she'd ever seen him.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. Then again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation; because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outdated, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

She sat back down, and Dumbledore applauded politely. A few teachers and students did as well, but Sara did not. Instead, she laughed—a bitter noise that could barely be classified as laughter.

"What?" George asked, looking down at her.

"It's Fudge. He put her here. The Ministry's trying to get inside the school, make sure no one lets on that Voldemort is back," she spat, glaring up at Umbridge.

Very few people were still listening to Dumbledore speak, and were thus surprised when he dismissed them for bed.

"So wait," Fred said, walking along beside her back to Gryffindor Tower. "That toad is here because the Minister of Magic won't admit You-Know-Who's come back?"

"Yes," Sara replied.

"So that thing's going to be teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"It would appear so," Sara sighed.

"What do we do?" Fred asked as they approached the Fat Lady.

_"Mimbulus mimbletonia,"_ Sara said.

"Bless you."

"It's the password," she corrected.

They stepped into the common room, now bustling with people. Sara yawned and stretched her arms over her head.

"I suppose for now, all we can do is grit our teeth and bear it, even if she turns out to be a miserable cow," she suggested.

"Toad," Fred and George corrected at once.

"Right, toad," she laughed, trying to stifle another yawn.

"Go to bed," Fred said, ruffling her hair and wandering over to Angelina.

"You look tired," George said, pulling her against him.

"Come up with me," she begged, snuggling against him.

"I can't do that," he chuckled, resting his chin on her head.

"We can finish what we started on the train," she added, her lips brushing against his neck.

"Don't tempt me," he tried to sound confident, but he was sure he was flushing red.

"Fine, guess I'll just go take care of things myself," she said with a seductive voice, biting down gently on his exposed neck.

"Merlin, Sara," he groaned.

"Well, goodnight… George," she added his name in a sultry voice, the way he'd asked her to say it on the train.

With a lingering kiss, she headed up the stairs to bed, leaving George standing there, wanting nothing more than to follow her. Instead, he returned to his own room to take care of the lingering need she'd left in her wake.


	23. Disagree

The next morning, Sara struggled into consciousness. She couldn't be late for her first day of classes. She stumbled into the bathroom, where she showered and dressed before Katie and Leanne even woke up.

"Damn, girl, you're awake!" Katie marveled as Sara slouched back into the room.

She grunted a response, grabbed her bag, and headed downstairs. Fred and George were standing in front of the notice board, tacking something up.

"Is this something I want to see?" she asked from the bottom step.

"Probably not," they both replied at once, turning and blocking the board from her view.

She shook her head and passed them without a second glance. She was vaguely aware of them following her out of the portrait hole and down to the Great Hall. She sat down at the Gryffindor table and pulled the pot of coffee toward her greedily.

"Why are you up so early?" George asked as he helped himself to eggs.

"I have Potions first thing," she said, pouring a large amount of coffee into a mug. "I need to be alert."

"Lest you earn anything but an Outstanding," Fred teased.

"Go away," she grumbled, sipping at the heavenly amber liquid.

"I think I just might. Come George, we have torture to commence," Fred said.

Sara looked over and saw that Ron, Hermione, and Harry had just sat down a little further down the table. George looked at Sara questioningly.

"Go ahead," she said, waving him off.

"See you at dinner," he smiled, kissing her on the cheek and following his brother toward their target.

Sara's day was no easier than it had been the previous year. She was starting on her N.E.W.T. classes with only the best students in the class. Her double Potions lesson had been much smaller than the previous year, as Snape only took students who'd received an Outstanding on their O.W.L.s. He had them start brewing Everlasting Elixers—extremely complicated potions that would have to brew for 48 hours until their next class. This was followed by a double Transfiguration lesson, where there were only a few more students than had been in Potions. They began learning about Conjuration and quickly discovered that it was not nearly as easy as Vanishment had been—it was simply making things appear out of thin air. The spent the entire lesson learning about the theory of it and were told to practice for the next class, when they would begin with the technique. Lunch was followed by Ancient Runes, Charms, and Arithmancy. As she wandered down to dinner, she wondered how her head had not exploded with the complexity of what had been taught to them during the lessons. She sat down between Fred and George, who were already at the table, and promptly slumped onto the tabletop in defeat.

"Rough day?" George asked, rubbing her back.

"I'm going to die," she groaned.

"Here," Fred said, putting some food onto her plate. "Eat."

She sat up and forced the food into her mouth. She dutifully finished the food on her plate before slumping against George.

"Do you want to go to bed?" he asked gently, setting his fork down. "I'll take you up."

"No, I can't. I have so much homework," she sighed. "I just need a minute, and you're quite comfortable."

He chuckled, returning to his food while Sara laid her head on his arm.

"We've already got a good number who want to test," Fred was saying to Lee.

"We could probably do that tonight, I haven't got much work to do," Lee replied.

"Yeah, I told them all to meet us in the common room after dinner," Fred said.

"Is this something that I'll have to put a stop to?" she asked, looking up at George.

"Why don't you just… You know," he said, lifting up his arm to cover her exposed ear.

"Great," she rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her chuckle.

After dinner, Sara settled down onto one of the armchairs in the common room with her Ancient Runes book. She hadn't read more than five pages when her eyes grew heavy and her head lolled onto the arm of the chair.

"It is NOT excellent!"

Sara started at the shouting just to her left. She looked over and saw Hermione clutching a bag of sweets and a clipboard, Fred and George looking indignant, and a few first years wearing dazed expressions.

"'Course it is, they're alive, aren't they?" Fred retorted.

"You can't do this, what if you made one of them really ill?" Hermione asked, clutching the bag tightly.

"We're not going to make them ill, we've already tested them all on ourselves, this is just to see if everyone reacts the same—"

"If you don't stop, I'm going to—" she threatened.

""Put us in detention?" Fred taunted.

"Make us write lines?" George added.

"No, but I will write to your mother," she said angrily.

"You wouldn't," George said, genuinely worried for the first time.

"Oh, yes, I would," she taunted. "I can't stop you from eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not giving them to first years."

With an air of victory, Hermione shoved the clipboard and sweets back at Fred and returned to her seat, where Harry and Ron sat looking horrified. Furious, Fred and George stalked over to the couch next to Sara's chair and dropped onto it. Their expressions of fury were strikingly similar. Sara looked back down at her book and realized she had not actually digested any of the material on the page before she'd fallen asleep.

"What's your say in all this?" Fred asked suddenly.

Sara looked up to see both of them staring intently at her.

"Me?" she asked incredulously.

"You've always got something to say," Fred said exasperatedly.

"Let's hear it," George suggested.

"Well… Alright," she huffed, shutting her textbook and leaning forward. "Maybe it's alright to test on them, maybe it isn't. If you've tested them on yourselves and there have been _no repercussions that you can't fix immediately_, then maybe it isn't horrible to pay them for testing. Muggles do it all the time with psychological research. But you can't do it in the common room right under other people's noses. Location is key. You just need to make sure no one walks in on you. Maybe do it in your dormitory or something."

They were each looking back at her with similar expressions of shock and awe. Fred stood from his seat, leaned over, and kissed her on the cheek

"George, if you ever break up with her, I'll kill you," Fred threatened.

"Amazing, you are," George marveled.

"Nice to finally get some recognition," she laughed, returning to her book.

Her classes the next day were just as bad. Her double Herbology lesson was spent pruning a particularly vicious plant that seemed to want to gnaw them to death. Charms and Arithmancy were just as rough as they had been the day before. Finally, she ended her day with a double Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Sara took a seat next to Katie. The class was eerily quiet, as Professor Umbridge was already seated at the front of the room, staring at them all with an uncomfortably cheery look.

"Good afternoon, class," she finally said, standing up.

"Good afternoon," the class chanted back unevenly.

"Wands away now, and quills out," she commanded.

A disappointment fell over the students as they shoved their wands back into their bags and took out their quills and ink. It was like History of Magic all over again, Sara was sure of it.

"I am rather disappointed to see how uneven your teaching has been in this subject has been. The fact that you were all able to score Exceeds Expectations or Outstanding on your O.W.L.s means that you were able to overcome this slight handicap. I expect, then, that you will appreciate the way this class will be run now. A Ministry-approved curriculum has been established for your sake. Please copy down the following."

She rapped the blackboard with her wand and a list appeared:

_Course Aims:  
><em>_1. __Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.  
><em>_2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.  
><em>_3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use._

There was a scratching of quills as people copied down the words.

"Has everyone brought along their copies of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?" she asked.

There was a shuffling as people dug into their bags to retrieve their copies of the book.

"Excellent. I'd like for you to begin on page five and read the first chapter."

She sat back down at the front of the room and looked out over the class expectantly. They very grudgingly opened their books to page five. Sara, who had already read the first chapter, merely sat there, staring at the scratched surface of the desk. But, in reality, no one was reading. Warrington was staring at the back of the girl's head in front of him with his mouth gaping. His friend Vaisey was asleep. Katie was staring down at the page with glazed eyes. For thirty minutes, no one said a word—nor did anyone seem to read a word.

"Have you all about finished?" Umbridge finally asked.

There was a slight rush of panic among the students who had zoned out completely. They looked down at their books in horror.

"Let's see. You, what is your name?" she asked, pointing to someone in the back row.

"Jason Swann," a deep voice replied tentatively.

"Mr. Swann, tell me, what does Mr. Slinkhard say the most important basic to remember is?" she asked with mock curiosity.

The silence that followed was so uncomfortable, Sara had to squirm.

"I… I don't know," he finally admitted.

"Pity," she replied, shaking her head. "Can anyone tell me what Mr. Slinkhard says, or will we have to reread the chapter?"

It was with much trepidation that Sara raised her hand into the air.

"Yes, dear, your name?" Umbridge asked.

"Sara Roth."

"Indeed?" she said. Something in her eyes changed as she eyed Sara for a moment. "And what does Mr. Slinkhard say is the most important basic to remember?"

"Well… According to Slinkhard, the most important basic is that theory takes precedence…" she said.

"Very good, Miss Roth," Umbridge turned back to walk to the front.

"…but… But I don't agree."

Umbridge froze midstride. Slowly, she turned to face Sara again. Her lips were pursed, her eyes narrowed.

"Sorry, dear?" she asked.

"I don't agree with Mr. Slinkhard," she said more boldly.

The tension in the room was quite palpable. Katie was looking at her with an incredibly worried expression.

"I'm not sure Mr. Slinkhard cares whether or not you agree with him," Umbridge stated, stepping up to Sara's desk.

"I just don't understand how anyone in their right mind could think that theory was more important than practice," Sara pointed out.

"Again, Miss Roth, I don't feel as if Mr. Slinkhard would care about what a sixteen-year-old witch has to say about his widely-recognized basics," Umbridge glowered.

"But if I'm standing before an opponent, I don't think he's going to care how much I know about the Shield Charm. If I can't use it, he's going to take me out," Sara pressed.

"Miss Roth, are you a Ministry-trained educational expert?" she asked with a fake smile.

"Of course not, but-"

"Then I believe you may lack the proper qualifications to tell me how to run my class," she said, turning back to the front of the room.

Sara opened her mouth to speak, but Katie elbowed her in the side. Sara bit her tongue and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Umbridge carried on the lesson as if Sara hadn't said a word. When the bell rang signaling the end of class, Sara was the first one out of the room. She stomped into the Great Hall and slammed her bag onto the table between Fred and George.

"What's wrong?" they both asked.

"Umbridge," she huffed, taking her seat.

"What's the toad done now?" Fred asked, once again scooping food onto her plate.

"She has no intention of teaching us how to _use_ spells! She wants no one's opinions voiced in class, and speaking up only gets you berated!" she vented.

"Yeah, that's how our class is too," Fred said.

"Apparently Harry's got detention all week for talking about Voldemort coming back," George noted.

"She's horrible," Sara grumbled.

The week took far longer than Sara had hoped to end, and by Saturday she was exhausted. She awoke long after the sun had come up and entered the Great Hall as lunch was being served.

"Good morning," she yawned, falling into her usual seat between the twins.

"Morning?" Fred exclaimed. "It's past noon!"

"Good morning," George replied with a smile.

"That's why I prefer you," Sara said, leaning up to kiss George's cheek.

She helped herself to some food and ate hungrily while the twins took seconds.

"Coming to watch our practice today?" Fred asked casually through a mouthful of stew.

"Sure, not like I have work to do or anything," she waved him off.

"You can bring it down," George suggested.

"Of course I'm coming to watch, I was just being difficult," she winked at George.

After lunch, they parted ways. Sara headed up to her dormitory to fetch her homework while the twins headed down to the Quidditch pitch. She was heading back down the stairs from her room when she ran into Hermione.

"Going to watch the practice?" she asked.

"Yeah, I told Fred and George I would," she shrugged.

"Well, let me know how it goes."

"You're not going?" Sara asked, taken aback.

"They're blowing off their homework all the time, they can't expect me to support their poor choices," Hermione shrugged.

"Oh, hun, you have to lighten up. They're boys," Sara laughed.

"I know…" Hermione blushed.

"Well, it's your call."

Sara headed down to the pitch alone, her bag slung over her shoulder. She could hear chanting from the stands and wondered who could possibly be so interested in a practice. She received her answer as she entered the stadium when the jeers of the Slytherins could be understood.

"What's that Weasley's riding?" Malfoy's cold voice taunted. "Why would anyone put a flying charm on a moldy old thing like that?"

Sara rolled her eyes and crossed over to the stands on the opposite side, where their calls were nothing more than a faint noise on the wind. She stretched her legs out and ignored her work for a bit, opting instead to enjoy the weather and watch the practice. The first thing she noticed was that the Slytherins' jeering was getting to Ron. He was missing easy passes, and at one point threw the Quaffle so hard it made Katie's nose bleed.

It was difficult to tell who was who on the field, but when they landed to fetch their bats and a Bludger, she was able to pick our George—he was slightly taller than Fred and had a different stance. He looked up at her and waved before flying off. She hadn't watched them play Quidditch for real since her fourth year, and a few things had changed since then—namely, the fact that she and George were now dating. She was now noticing how attractive she found him in his scarlet robes and on a broom. How had she never noticed this before?

When Angelina blew the whistle for what felt like the hundredth time, Fred and George both flew to Katie's side. Blood was now dripping from her face onto the ground. She looked very unstable on her broom. With Katie in between them, Fred and George zoomed off toward the school. The rest of the team returned to the ground and disappeared into the changing rooms. The few Gryffindors that had come to watch the practice as well as the taunting Slytherins made their way back up to the castle—all except Sara. She gathered up her bag and headed down toward the changing rooms. When she entered, they were empty save for Fred and George's bags. She knew they would come back for them, so she sat down on one of the benches, took out her Arithmancy book, and waited. She was lost in the pages of her book when a shadow loomed over her. She looked up and found George smirking down at her. She bit her lip, closed her book, and stood up.

"Waiting for me?" he asked with a laugh.

"Maybe," she said in a sultry voice.

"What's this now?" he asked, snaking his arms around her waist.

"Is Fred here?"

"No, I came alone.

"You know," she said, running her fingers down his arms, "I've never noticed just how sexy you look in these robes."

"Are you serious?" he laughed.

"I don't think it's very funny," she looked up at him through hooded eyes.

He leaned down and captured her lips in a heated kiss. His tongue almost lazily dipped into her mouth, flicking against her own. His teeth nipped her bottom lip gently, and she groaned into his mouth. With nimble fingers, she slipped the robe over his head, breaking the kiss for no more than a second. His lips moved down to her neck as she pulled the pads and gloves off of his arms. She tugged on his sweater, quickly losing her logical thought. With a smirk, he pulled the sweater up and over his head, tossing it on top of his robes. He looked down at her with raised eyebrows and a smile as she ran her hands over his torso. Six years of Beater training had not gone to waste. A small tuft of orange hair led down his stomach where defined abs stood out. His arms were also quite muscular, a fact that came as a delightful surprise to Sara.

"I like these," she admitted, running her fingers down his stomach.

"I'm glad," he chuckled.

She was ready to explore more of him when the faint sound of voices reached them. They looked at each other with slightly panicked expressions. George grabbed his clothes, shoved them into his bag, shouldered his broom and ran out the entrance to the field, closely followed by Sara, who'd grabbed hers and Fred's bags.

"Ravenclaw team," George said, pulling his shirt over his head once they were a safe distance away.

"I suppose that makes sense," Sara laughed.

"So you really like the uniform, huh?" George asked with a smirk.

"Maybe," Sara blushed.

"Good to know," George winked.

"Don't let it get to your head, remember, you all wear the same uniform," Sara corrected.

"Ah, but you aren't snogging Katie on the side," George pointed out.

"As far as _you_ know," she teased, heading back up to the castle, a slightly worried George in tow.


	24. Dumbledore's Army

They suffered in silence for nearly a month under Umbridge's new rulings. She had been made "High Inquisitor" by the Ministry of Magic, meaning that she was in charge of correcting the "falling standards" at Hogwarts. For now, it meant that she was inspecting the professors to see if they were teaching classes properly. Every class that went by, Sara became more and more frustrated with their lack of learning. Something had to be done, but what?

Hermione approached Sara the first day of October with an answer.

"Sara," she whispered as they sat together in the library.

"Hm?" Sara replied, marking her page and shutting her book.

"Well, I just… I needed to ask you if you'd be interested in… Well, _actual _lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts, rather than what we're doing now," she whispered timidly.

"Hermione, you have no idea," Sara rolled her eyes.

"I do… And I think I have a solution."

"Do tell," Sara urged, now incredibly interested.

"We're meeting at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade this weekend, just a few people who're interested. And bring Fred and George too," she added.

At that moment, Madam Pince passed them, her hawk-like eyes staring them down. They returned to their books, though Sara did so with a confident smirk on her face. Umbridge wouldn't know what hit her.

That Saturday they headed down to Hogsmeade, where they made the usual Zonkos, Dominic Maestros, and Honeydukes run before meeting up with Lee and heading over to the Hog's Head. She had never been into the bar before, and she immediately knew why. It was absolutely filthy, every surface covered in a thick layer of grime. The windows were covered in so much dust that nothing more than a dim glow peeked through the windows. She was quite certain that the establishment had never seen this many guests before. Apart from the three or four people who looked like "regulars," there were more than twenty students crowded around a small table. Fred went up to the barman and placed an order for twenty-six butterbeers. He was quite clearly not pleased, but began to pass them out nonetheless. George took the last free chair, forcing Fred and Lee to stand. Sara glared down at him, ready to say that he should surrender his seat to a lady, when he pulled her down onto his lap. Hermione stood and looked at them all nervously.

"Er," she said tentatively. "Well—er—hi… Well… Erm… well, you know why we're here. Erm… well, Harry here had the idea—I mean, I had the idea—that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts—and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us—because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts—well, I thought that it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands. And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells—"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet," a dark-haired boy standing near Ginny said, eyeing her closely.

"Of course I do," Hermione said crossly. "But I want more than that. I want to be properly trained in Defense because… because… Because Lord Voldemort's back." Most of the inhabitants of the room reacted to the name, but Sara just smiled. "Well… that's the plan anyway. If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to—"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" a blonde boy with a sharp upturned nose asked aggressively.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it—" Hermione tried.

"You mean, Dumbledore believes _him_," he retorted, jerking his chin toward Harry.

"Who are _you_?" Ron asked rudely.

"Zacharias Smith, and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes _him_ say You-Know-Who's back."

"Look, that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about—" Hermione interjected.

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry cut in, speaking for the first time. "What makes me say You-Know-Who's back? I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

The room was eerily silent. Sara was glaring at Zacharias, and she was quite sure she wasn't the only one.

"All Dumbledore told us last year was that Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts," Zacharias countered. "He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know—"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry spat, his temper rising. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

No one moved a muscle, not even Zacharias.

"So," Hermione continued, sounding nervous. "So… like I was saying… if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to—"

"Is it true," a girl with a long braid interrupted, looking imploringly at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

"Yeah," he replied tentatively.

"Blimey, Harry!" Dean Thomas marveled. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," Fred grinned. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

A few students asked Harry if he'd really killed the basilisk in his second year, Neville brought up the Sorcerer's Stone from his first year, and Cho reminded them all that he'd managed to get through all the dangerous tasks from the year before.

"Look," Harry said, looking nervous. "I… I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but… I had a lot of help with all that stuff…"

"Not with the dragon you didn't. That was a seriously cool bit of flying."

"Yeah, well—"

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer."

"No," Harry agreed, "no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is—"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" Zacharias asked loudly.

"Here's an idea," Ron growled, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

"Well," Zacharias flushed, "we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it."

"That's not what he said," snarled Fred.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" George asked, reaching into his bag on the floor and pulling out a long metal rod.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," Fred added.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Sara snapped, taking the rod from George and putting it back into the bag. "But honestly," she looked sharply up at the blonde, "no one's forcing you to stay. There's the door," she pointed.

"Yes, well," Hermione pressed on, "the point is, are we agreed that we want to take lessons from Harry?" There was a murmur of agreement, all except Zacharias who was glaring at George and Sara. "Right. Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week—"

"Hang on," Angelina interrupted, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practices."

"No, nor with ours," Cho added.

"Nor ours," Zacharias chimed in, unaware of the glares being thrown his way.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," Hermione sighed. "Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet…"

"Library?" Katie suggested after a few minutes of palpable silence.

"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," Harry said.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" chimed in Dean.

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard…"

"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere. We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting," Hermione pulled a piece of parchment and a quill out of her bag hesitantly. "I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge—or anybody else—what we're up to."

Fred, George, and Sara put their names down without hesitation, and after some convincing everyone else did too, even Zacharias. Hermione tucked the parchment away and everyone began to leave off. Sara, not wanting to be party to their crime she knew was sure to come, kissed George goodbye and left with Katie, Angelina, and Alicia. They headed back up to the school, chatting all the way about classes, Quidditch, and whatever came to mind.

Sara hadn't been expecting it so soon, but that Wednesday, she was approached by Hermione, who told her to meet that night in the seventh floor corridor near the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. She told the twins at lunch, and by dinner everyone knew. At around 7:45, Sara, Fred, and George ducked out into the hall with their bags—they would use the excuse of doing homework if anyone happened upon them, though the excuse didn't go very far with Fred and George by her side. When they reached the seventh floor landing, they noticed a door that had never been there.

"Blimey," Fred and George both marveled as they approached it.

Sara knocked, and only seconds later, Harry threw the door open.

"Come on in," he beckoned, stepping aside.

The room was perhaps the most elaborate she'd seen in all of Hogwarts. The walls were lined with bookcases filled to the brim with books. Shelves at the other end of the room housed an array of Dark Detectors. The floor was littered with enormous purple cushions. They each took a cushion and waited expectantly until eight o'clock when Harry locked the door and turned to face them.

"Well," he said tentatively. "This is the place we've found for practices, and you've—er—obviously found it okay—"

"It's fantastic!" Cho exclaimed.

"It's bizarre," Fred looked around in awe. "We once hid from Filch in here, remember George? But it was just a broom cupboard then…"

"Well," Harry continued, "I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and—er—What Hermione?" he noticed her raised hand.

"I think we ought to elect a leader," she suggested.

"Harry's leader," Cho said definitively.

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly. It makes it more formal and gives him authority. So—everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?"

Everyone in the room raised their hands, and it was settled. They also decided on a name—Dumbledore's Army—before moving on to the lesson.

"Right, shall we get practicing then?" Harry said. "I was thinking, the first thing we should do is _Expelliarmus_, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful—"

"Oh _please_," Zacharias scoffed. "I don't think _Expelliarmus_ is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

"I've used it against him," Harry replied. "It saved my life last June. But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave."

No one moved. Smith, gaping like a fish, was effectively shut up.

"Okay, I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice," Harry suggested.

Sara paired up with Katie and they moved to their own section of the room. Katie went first, but her spell missed Sara by a few inches, instead flying off to her right and disarming Fred, who was just behind them.

"Sorry!" Katie laughed.

"Alright, Bell, I see how it is!" he called back, fetching his wand.

"Sara, why don't you take a turn," Harry said at her arm.

"Oh, sure."

She looked at Katie and chanted, _"Expelliarmus!"_ Katie's wand sailed out of her hand and flew into Sara's outstretched one.

"Great!" Harry exclaimed. "That's excellent!"

"Thanks, Har," Sara winked as he moved on.

For the next hour, they practiced Katie's disarming, and eventually she got better. She was able to make Sara lose her wand, but couldn't quite get it to fly into her own hand. At last, Harry blew his whistle.

"Well, that was pretty good, but we've overrun, we'd better leave it here," he called to them. "Same time, same place next week, and we can decide on additional meetings then… Come on, we'd better get going."

They all left the room in small groups. Sara, Fred, and George set out together, making it back to the common room without encountering a soul.

"That was awesome!" Fred finally said as they entered the sparsely populated common room.

"Careful," Sara said quietly, noticing the curious looks they received.

Fred, however, was no longer listening as Angelina had returned with Lee, Katie, and Alicia. He sauntered away from them and leaned against the armchair onto which she had sat. Sara and George both rolled their eyes.

"He's horrible," she laughed.

"He's a special kind of person," George corrected.

"I'm going upstairs," she reached up on her toes and kissed him softly before heading up the spiral staircase and falling into bed.


	25. Banned

With every meeting of the D.A., they learned more and more about defensive magic and were able to bear Umbridge's pointless classes. They would "read" Slinkhard in silence, remembering the spells they'd learned or practiced and looking forward to the next meeting. This meant that Sara was busier than ever, but she didn't mind. She was happy being busy, especially now that George was her favorite distraction.

The Saturday of the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was a beautiful day, probably one of the last ones fall would give them. It was chilly, but crisp. Sara dressed in her red and gold striped sweater from Mrs. Weasley, jeans, and boots. She added her red and gold scarf, mittens, and hat before heading down to breakfast. She found Fred and George shoveling food into their mouths and took her usual seat between them.

"Excited?" she asked cheerily.

"You haven't seen, then," Fred grumbled.

"Seen what?" she asked.

"Well, the Slytherins have decided that hexing us and verbally insulting us isn't enough," George muttered.

"They've picked out the easiest target they can: Ron," Fred said.

She looked over at the Slytherin table and noticed they were all wearing badges, but she couldn't realize that they said. She shook her head and scooped some eggs and bacon onto her plate.

"Let's hope it doesn't get to him too much," she shrugged, tucking in.

When they finished, they headed down to the pitch together, discussing how the match was going to go.

"If Ron can just keep his head, or Harry can get the Snitch quick, we'll be fine," Fred said optimistically.

"He's not going to keep his head, you've seen him in practices when the Slytherins are there. How's he gonna be today with the entire school?" George retorted.

"Let's just hope Harry's quick today, then," Sara suggested.

They reached the changing rooms, and Fred headed inside to get changed. George made to follow him, but Sara grabbed his arm and pulled him back. She crushed her lips to his, her fingers tangling in his hair. She pulled back too soon for his liking and smiled up at him.

"Good luck… George," she said his name the same way she'd said it on the train, sending a shiver down his spine.

She headed up into the stands to take her usual seat among the teachers. She sat down next to Professor McGonagall, who was looking tense. She spared a quick smile for Sara before she returned to staring intently at the field. It wasn't long before the Slytherin team marched out onto the field, all of them large and stocky except for Draco. The Gryffindor team followed, and Sara and McGonagall cheered loudly. The captains shook hands, and the balls were released.

No goals had even been scored when Sara heard the Slytherins across the stadium begin to sing.

_Weasley cannot save a thing,  
><em>_He cannot block a single ring,  
><em>_That's why Slytherins all sing:  
><em>_Weasley is our King.  
><em>_Weasley was born in a bin,  
><em>_He always lets the Quaffle in,  
><em>_Weasley will make sure we win,  
><em>_Weasley is our King._

Though Lee was doing his best to drown out the incessant singing, it grew louder as the match went on, and it was evidently getting to Ron. He let in the first easy goal straight into his central hoop. Even Harry had stopped his searching for the Snitch to watch the match below him. It was three more goals later before Angelina finally managed to score one for Gryffindor, and neither Harry nor Malfoy had seen the Snitch.

And then it happened. Like a streak of lightning, Harry was speeding toward the Slytherin end of the pitch, Malfoy hot on his tail. The glimmer of gold was only feet from the ground. Harry and Malfoy were neck and neck. Sara and McGonagall were both on their feet shouting. The Seekers stretched out their arms… And then Harry's fingers had closed around it, and the match was over. Sara was screaming, and she was fairly certain there were tears in Professor McGonagall's eyes.

Then, suddenly, Harry was on the ground, Madam Hooch was blowing her whistle and flying toward one of the beaters—was it Crabbe or Goyle?—who had apparently sent a Bludger toward Harry after the match had ended. Sara and Professor McGonagall both went flying down from the stands, toward the pitch. Sara was quicker, and was on the grass and heading over when she saw it happen. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were holding back a writhing, shouting Fred. George and Harry, however, had bolted toward Malfoy. Harry sank his fist into Malfoy's stomach, while George knocked his into his nose. Malfoy had thrown up his own fist, hitting George in the mouth, before he went down. Madam Hooch shouted _"IMPEDIMENTA!"_ and Harry and George both fell backwards.

"NO!" Sara shouted, running toward them.

"-never seen behavior like it—back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! _Now!_" Madam Hooch bellowed.

Sara drew up next to Fred, who was still being restrained by the Chasers. George caught her eye before turning to follow Harry back up to the castle. His lip was swollen, and he looked furious. Professor McGonagall swept past them to return to the castle as well.

"Ah, Miss Roth, would you mind fixing up his nose?" Madam Hooch asked, gesturing down at Malfoy.

Sara glared down at him. He had started this, she was sure. She leaned down next to him and had to hold back the desire to punch him as well.

"Sit up," she growled.

Evidently not sensing her tone, he groaned and remained on the ground, holding his nose.

"Fine, stay where you are then, see if I care how much blood you swallow," she snapped.

She pulled off her mittens and reached down. Instead of using her magic to heal his nose, she decided to do it the old fashioned way. Placing a hand on either side of it, she snapped it into place, then out again. Draco shouted in pain.

"Oops, sorry," she spat.

She popped it back the opposite direction, then out of place once more before finally setting it right. He cried, holding his freshly bleeding nose, writhing on the ground in pain. She stood back up and turned away from him.

"Come on," she grabbed Fred's arm and pulled him back toward the changing room.

They didn't stop walking until they'd entered the changing room. Finally, Fred, with a shout of rage, slammed his fist against the wall.

"What happened?" Sara asked, sitting down on one of the benches.

Heaving a great sigh, Fred sat down next to her. He rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head.

"He called mum ugly… And called dad a useless loser," he spat. "He insulted Harry's mum too… He just thinks he can get away with everything! Someone had to teach him a lesson!"

"I know," Sara said, patting his back.

She knew saying what she thought—that just ignoring him would have been worse to him than responding, because now he knows it bothers them—wouldn't do any good, so she held it in. The other members of the team came in silently and changed, leaving without saying a word. When Sara grabbed Harry's and George's bag, she realized that Ron had never come back.

"Come on, let's go," she heaved Fred off the bench, made him grab his own bag and broom, and led him back up to the school.

That evening, George and Harry finally returned to the common room. George stalked straight past them all and went up the stairs to his room. Harry, looking like he'd smelled something awful, dropped into one of the empty armchairs.

"So?" a few of them asked expectantly.

"We… We've been banned from Quidditch forever. Me… George… And Fred," he muttered.

Sara looked back toward the stairs up which George had just disappeared. Without a word, she stood from the couch where she was sitting next to Hermione and headed up to check on him. Their dormitory door was shut and locked. She knocked gently and received no reply.

"George, I'm coming in," she announced.

She drew out her wand, tapped the door handle, and muttered _"Alohomora."_ The lock clicked and she opened the door slowly. The lights were off, but she could see George lying on his bed. She shut the door and relocked it behind her. When she reached the bed, she lay down next to him and didn't say anything for a while. She didn't know how long they'd been there before he finally spoke.

"I shouldn't have done it," he muttered into the darkness.

She looked over at him and, because her eyes had adjusted, could see him looking at her. Her hand found his between them, and her fingers curled around his.

"Maybe not…" she replied, rolling over on her side to face him. "Maybe you should've just let him talk… But I don't blame you for doing it. I probably would've done the same thing."

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed the palm tenderly, then each finger. Her lips trailed up his wrist, his arm, and suddenly, she was on top of him, their lips molded together. She dipped her tongue lazily into his mouth, and he nibbled on her bottom lip. They'd done this part so many times before, it was like a dance. Fingers combed through hair, legs tangled, hips ground together. George's robes and sweater were gone, flung across the room somewhere. Sara kissed down his neck, her tongue trailing over his heated skin. Her tongue made contact with a nipple, and he twitched. She continued to kiss down his body, her nose tickling down his front. She smoothed her hands over the taut muscles in his stomach. They were almost mouth watering. When she reached down and cupped him through his pants, he groaned.

"Ready and waiting," she mused with a smirk, feeling him through the fabric.

He was taken by surprise when he felt her fingers fumbling with his belt buckle, and even more so when they unzipped his pants and tried to pull them down.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sitting up and looking down at her.

"Trying to make your day a little better," she said coyly.

"You don't have—" he tried.

"I know I don't have, I want," she corrected. "Take them off," she ordered.

Her directness was such a turn on, he couldn't help it as he lifted his hips off the bed and slid his pants down his thighs. She pulled them the rest of the way off and threw them away to join his robes. Her fingers tucked into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down as well. He felt the chilled air against his dick as she pulled the boxers off and flung them aside.

"Oh my," she put her hand over her mouth.

George looked up to see Sara looking down at him with a slightly awed expression. He couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face. He knew he wasn't small, but he'd never had anyone but Fred to compare himself too, and they were relatively the same. He groaned again when her fingers made contact with him, throwing his head back against his pillow. Sara was absolutely fascinated by George. His cock was standing straight up, at full attention. It was larger than she imagined it would be. She guessed around 20 centimeters, though she had never been a good guess of size. It was surrounded by a tuft of orange hair, which made her smile. She licked her lips and, unable to hold back, leaned down and ran her tongue up the length of it. George moaned aloud at the contact, his hands clenching the sheets beneath him. When she reached the head, she swirled her tongue around it before taking as much of him as she could into his mouth.

"Fuck," he hissed, slamming his head into the pillow again.

She wrapped her hands around what she couldn't fit into her mouth and bobbed her head up and down. Her mouth was hot and wet, and she knew exactly what to do with it. She would swirl her tongue around the head every so often, something that made George moan. Only once was she able to take the whole thing into her mouth, choking on it in the process. But she didn't mind. The look on George's face was one of pure bliss. His fingers were now tangled in her hair.

"Sara," he groaned.

"Hmmmm," she replied.

The vibrations coursed through his body, and he felt himself toeing the edge.

"S-Sara, wait," he tried.

"Uh-uh," she looked up at him, and instead intensified her ministrations.

"Oh, fuck, Sara, I'm gonna…" he groaned.

He felt himself explode into her mouth, and rather than pull back, she sucked harder, drawing out everything he had, and swallowing it all. He felt his body, convulsing prior, relax on the bed. She released his cock with a small pop and slithered back up the bed, curling up next to him.

"That was… Fucking amazing," he sighed.

"Good," she smiled, kissing his cheek. "Feel better?"

"I completely forgot about it… Until now," he groaned.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, leaning up on her elbows.

"Not your fault," he said, pulling her up against him.

"I wish I could make it better," she sighed, snuggling against him.

"You did, a bit," he muttered.

They laid there in silence for a while, listening to each other breathing. The next time Sara looked up, George was asleep. She smiled, kissed his cheek quickly, and got up as quietly as she could. She put all of his clothes together in a pile next to his bed and covered him up with a sheet before slinking out of the room and closing the door. She was halfway down the stairs when she ran into Fred.

"He alright?" Fred asked, leaning against the wall.

"Yeah, he's asleep," she said.

"Worked your magic?"

"I guess you could call it that," she winked. "I'm sorry you got banned too," she added.

"Whatever," he shrugged. "See you tomorrow."

"Night," she said.

He skirted past her and continued up to his room. When he opened the door, George sat up and looked around in a daze. He stared at Fred for a minute before flopping back down on the bed.

"You all right, mate?" Fred asked, closing the door behind him.

"Fantastic," he replied.

He saw the pile of clothes on the floor, so neatly arranged. He saw the blanket, thrown to the ground as if someone was in a hurry. He saw the eerie relaxation that George was exhibiting, not common of one who had just been banished from his favorite sport.

"So, basically, you had a good night despite the horrible circumstances," Fred smirked.

"She's amazing," George sighed.

"Never forget that, mate," Fred said, disappearing into the bathroom.

"I won't," he said into the darkness, long after Fred had crawled into bed and fallen asleep. "Never."


	26. Love

November faded into December, and soon the last week of term was upon them. Her father had sent her an owl telling her that she would be going "with the Weasleys" for Christmas. When she'd received the letter, she'd sighed. Fred, who'd read it over her shoulder, feigned offense.

"So, you don't want to come with us for Christmas?" he exclaimed.

"That's not it," she shook her head. "My dad's just working so damn hard. I miss him."

"He'll probably stop by, at least," George said.

"I know… It's just… It's not like it used to be when I was little. There was always someone there. I love going to your house because there's always someone home."

"Tell you what, you won't have a minute to yourself this holiday," Fred winked.

"Eating—" George chimed in.

"Sleeping—"

"Reading—"

"Bathing—"

"You're disgusting!" Sara exclaimed, hitting Fred in the arm, though he'd managed to make her smile.

At their last D.A. meeting of the year, Sara noticed how much they all had learned. Sara and George were paired up today, Fred had paired with Angelina, and Katie with Alicia. They were practicing the Impediment Jinx. Sara hit George with one so strong he was frozen for two minutes while she taunted him. When he finally unfroze, he tackled her to the ground.

"This is not proper Defense Against the Dark Arts training!" she cried from beneath him.

"You're a good witch, get yourself out of this one," he teased.

She craned her neck to kiss him and he released her almost instantly.

"I don't have to be a good witch to know that," she winked.

He pulled her to her feet and she allowed him to try the Impediment jinx on her. His lasted for about a minute. He circled her like a hawk while she stood there helplessly. Finally, she too unfroze.

"All right, let's move on to Stunning again," Harry said.

As the room was too small for all of them to practice this at once, Sara and George stood off to the side and watched Fred and Angelina go at it. It was obvious that Fred was holding back (or else not very good), as Angelina merely stumbled. Fred however, went sailing back, tripped over his cushion, and bumped in Neville, who went down too. Sara and George were on the floor in laughter. When their turn came, Sara and George went out to the floor.

"You better not go easy on me, George," Sara whispered as she passed him. "Because I'm not going easy on you."

George smirked as she took her place across from him. He really didn't have a reason to go easy on her, as he wasn't trying to win her over like Fred was with Angelina. When Harry blew his whistle, Fred raised his wand and shouted _"Stupefy!"_ Sara flew back a few feet and landed on top of her cushion with a little "oomph!" He walked over to her and reached out his hand to pull her up.

"No reason to go easy on you," he winked. "I already have you."

She rolled her eyes and allowed him to pull her into a standing position. He moved back to his spot and waited for her. She raised her wand and shouted _"Stupefy!"_ George was lifted off his feet and sailed past his own cushion and into the crowd of onlookers. He fell into Ron, who was not paying attention and fell to the ground, with George heaped on top of him. The room went eerily silent as everyone stared at Sara in awe. She stood with her arm still held in midair, looking quite shocked herself.

"I… I didn't know that was going to happen," she said lamely.

"Sara, that was amazing!" Harry marveled. "My Stunning spells aren't that powerful!"

"Thanks," she blushed.

She went over to help disentangle George and Ron, pulling George away from his fuming brother.

"I'm sorry," she whispered hurriedly. "I didn't think it's be that… Oh, Merlin, George—"

"Why are you sorry? That was great!" he exclaimed with a laugh.

"Really?" she looked hopefully up at him.

"I l—You're so cute," he smiled down at her.

She blushed a color of abashment that he thought he could get used to seeing on her. Harry released them all for the night with the promise of Patronuses in the term to come. Sara and George set out with a few other Ravenclaws, who parted ways with them on the stairs. Sara and George were walking hand in hand, almost to Gryffindor Tower, when they were spotted.

"What are you doing?" Filch asked, stumbling around the corner.

"Going back to Gryffindor Tower," they both replied at once.

"Lurking in the hallways?" he growled.

"No, we're just coming back from the library," she pointed to her bag.

Filch's yellow-eyed cat, Mrs. Norris, slunk out from behind his legs and approached Sara and George. Most people thought the cat was horrid—including George—but Sara had always thought she was rather adorable. She drew up to them and, most unexpectedly, rubbed herself against Sara's legs. She leaned down and pet the cat behind her ears, and she began to purr. Both Filch and George were equally taken aback.

"She's very pretty," Sara smiled up at Filch.

He stared at her with an awed look—likely because his cat had never taken a liking to any student in the entire school.

"Yes… well… go on then," he spluttered.

With a final pat, Sara and George continued on down the hallway, leaving a stunned Filch and content Mrs. Norris behind them. When they reached the common room, George began to laugh.

"Amazing, you are!" he exclaimed.

"Why?" she asked, taken aback.

"That cat cannot stand a single person at this school except for him. And she purrs for you!" he laughed. "Amazing!"

"I think she can tell that most people hate her! Do you ever feel the need to go out of your way and be nice to Snape? No, because he very clearly doesn't like you. But if he started to be nice to you, you might change your mind, right?" she asked.

"If Snape started to be nice to me, I'd question his sanity," he retorted. "But I see what you mean."

"I'm tired," she yawned, stretching her arms above her head.

"You should go to bed," he said, kissing her forehead.

"Fine," she sighed.

She trudged up the stairs and dropped her bag onto the floor. She managed to change before dropping onto her bed and falling asleep.

George was lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling. Something was bothering him, and he couldn't get it out of his mind. Fred trudged in, kicking off his shoes and flopping down onto his bed.

"Angelina really isn't that good at the Stunning spell, I just tripped," he felt the need to justify himself.

"Yeah," George replied halfheartedly.

"What's wrong?" asked Fred, lifting himself up on his elbows and peering over at his twin.

"I… I think I'm in love with Sara," he sighed.

"That's great, mate!" he laughed.

"But… But I couldn't say it to her," he admitted.

"…Why?" Fred asked.

"I don't know!" he groaned, pulling at his hair.

"Well, you might want to figure that out. Because I know you love her," Fred stated.

"How could you possibly—" George started.

"Because I know you!" Fred exclaimed, jumping up from the bed. "You're head over heels for her! You just… You just have to figure this out."

He retreated into the bathroom, and George sighed. Why couldn't he just say it? He had been so close tonight. Had she noticed? He felt so stupid. Whenever they weren't together, he thought about her, and he missed her. He couldn't imagine what his life would be like without her… And yet those words seemed so fragile. He crawled under his blankets and thought about her until his thoughts ebbed away and sleep overtook him.

He was shaken awake what felt like only minutes later. He groaned and tried to burrow in his covers, knowing that it was still nighttime.

"Mr. Weasley, wake up."

George sat bolt upright, totally awake. Professor McGonagall stood before him in her cloak and dressing gown.

"P-Professor?" he stammered.

"Wake up, Mr. Weasley. Your father is at St. Mungo's, he's been attacked," she said, already heading over to wake up Fred.

He threw his robe on over his pajamas before she'd managed to wake up Fred, who was a much heavier sleeper than he was.

"Fred, wake up!" he shouted.

Fred bolted up in his bed and looked around, just as confused as George had been.

"What the hell?" he grumbled.

"Mr. Weasley, your father has been taken to St. Mungo's, you are to come with me," she said matter-of-factly.

She went off to get Ginny, and George followed at her heels.

"Professor, could I just go tell Sara where we're going?" he asked.

"Mr. Weasley, she will be alerted in the morning, now is hardly the time—"

"Please, Professor?" he pleaded. "I don't want her to worry. And I'll be quick as lightning, I promise."

"Fine, fine."

She raised her wand and lifted the enchantment that stopped boys from entering the girls' dormitories. He followed McGonagall up the stairs and slipped into Sara's room. Katie, Leanne, and Sara were all sound asleep. George drew up to Sara's bed and shook her gently. She groaned and tried to roll over.

"Sara," he whispered.

"George?" she asked, squinting her eyes open. "What… How did you… What are you doing here?"

"I can't stay, McGonagall lifted the enchantment for me. My dad's been attacked, he's at St. Mungo's. We're leaving now to see him. I expect you'll come on Thursday. I just didn't want you to worry," he explained quickly.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed, fighting to stay awake. "Well, give him my best. I'll see you Thursday then."

They kissed quickly and she dropped back down onto the bed, asleep within seconds. George stood up and looked down at her for a moment. He pushed a loose strand of hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. He felt it, so strong. He felt it.

"I love you," he whispered into the darkness.

He turned and headed for the door. McGonagall's footsteps were echoing in the chamber outside. He had almost made it to the door.

"Love… you…"

He froze, afraid to look back. She had to be asleep. There was no way she had heard him. He turned to see her settled into her blankets, her mouth slightly open. She was sound asleep. But that had been her voice, he was sure of it. He hurried out into the hall ahead of Professor McGonagall, his mind racing.

On Thursday evening, Sara and Hermione were waiting in Hogsmeade for the Knight Bus. The day before, Dumbledore had explained exactly what had happened. Hermione, who was supposed to spend the holiday skiing with her parents, opted to go back to Grimmauld Place instead. So, with their backpacks secured, Sara flung out her arm.

BANG.

The violently purple bus appeared before them, and they climbed aboard. They each handed the pimply conductor eleven Sickles before taking two seats at the back of the bus. There were few riders today, so there would only be two stops before theirs. With another bang, the bus sped onward, slamming Hermione and Sara back into their seats.

"I hope Mr. Weasley's not too worse for the wear," Hermione murmured, clutching tightly her armrest.

"Me too," Sara said, fiddling with a few loose threads on her sweater. "But Dumbledore said he was okay, at least for now."

"Umbridge is furious, did you see her at lessons?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah, she tried to take it out on our class yesterday, pretty upset that she couldn't get to me," Sara laughed.

"This isn't going to mean good things when we get back."

"Well, lets not think about it until then," Sara suggested.

When the bus finally thundered to a stop a few minutes from Grimmauld Place, Sara and Hermione trudged off, grateful to have solid ground under their feet. A familiar face was waiting for them, leaned against a lamppost.

"Uncle Remus!" Sara exclaimed.

"Morning, ladies," he smiled that same worn smile.

They each drew up on either side of him and headed off toward Grimmauld Place.

"How's Mr. Weasley?" Hermione asked.

"He's fine. Still in St. Mungo's, but he's back to his old self, at least," Lupin said.

"And… And how's Harry?" Sara asked.

"He's keeping to himself a lot," Lupin sighed. "Hopefully you can get him to come spend some time with the rest of us."

They reached Grimmauld Place as the sun was disappearing below the horizon, and before their eyes Number 12 appeared between Numbers 11 and 13. Lupin tapped his wand on the door. The series of locks clicked on the other side, and the door sprang open. Mrs. Black was shrieking inside, so they quickly skittered into the kitchen.

"Sara! Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron and pulling them both in for a hug.

"Mrs. Weasley, is Harry upstairs?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, dear. Ron's up there as well."

Hermione disappeared up the stairs, leaving Sara, Lupin and Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen.

"Are you hungry, dear?" she asked, returning to the stove.

"A bit," Sara replied, taking a seat at the table.

In seconds, a steaming plate of stew and a slab of bred was passed in front of her. She felt her mouth watering as she dug in. It was steaming, but delicious.

"How are you doing?" Lupin asked, taking a seat across from her.

"Alright," she replied. "Umbridge's class is a joke, but… But we're managing, I suppose. Everything else is great, though. I've realized I have a real love for Transfiguration. It's just so interesting."

"Maybe you can become an animagus," Lupin laughed.

"That would be amazing," Sara sighed happily.

At that moment, Sirius wandered into the kitchen singing loudly. He was considerably happier than he was last time she'd seen him.

"Sara!" he exclaimed. "Welcome to my humble abode. Happy Christmas!"

"And to you!" she laughed.

"I'm fairly certain your twins miss you. They rarely come down from their room when you're not here," he noted.

Sara had to bite her lip to keep the laughter down. She knew exactly why they stayed up there—they were using this time without her to work uninterrupted. They didn't stay up in their room when she was there because she knew what they were up to. Evidently, Molly still hadn't found out about the money Harry had given them.

"How's Mr. Weasley?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, he's fine. He's still in St. Mungos, but he's doing much better," Mrs. Weasley smiled. "This morning he was having a very in-depth conversation with one of the healers about a bit of Muggle healing nonsense. Venus therapy… Something like that."

"Intravenous therapy?" Sara asked, nearly choking on her stew.

"Yes, that's it!"

"How on earth do you know that?" Lupin asked, taken aback.

"I remember visiting my friend in the hospital when I was younger. She got his by a car, and dad let me go see her with her mother. She had an IV in her—that is, the tube that was giving her medicine, intravenous therapy," Sara explained.

"Well, I worry sometimes about Arthur's curiosity," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "I sincerely hope he doesn't talk anyone into trying this inter-venus therapy on him."

Sara laughed and finished her stew, also downing the butterbeer Mrs. Weasley had given her.

"Are they up in their room?" she asked, taking her plate and cup over to the sink.

"Yes, the same one you stayed in last time," Mrs. Weasley took her dishes from her and waved her off.

She crept silently up the stairs, trying not to awaken the now silent Mrs. Black from her portrait. She drew up to the door that she had shared with them over the summer and pressed her ear to it.

"-don't think we should charge that much for them," George's voice drifted through the door. "We'd sell so many more if they were just a few sickles cheaper, and we wouldn't lose any money."

"I suppose, but if we go too cheap, people will think they're worthless," Fred replied.

"I think we'll be alright," George laughed.

"Fine, fine."

"Wait," George said.

They were silent for a minute. Sara wondered what they were doing when the door against which she'd been leaning opened abruptly. She fell forward and knocked into a body. She looked up and saw George, looking down at her with a smirk on his face. He wrapped his arms around her and laughed.

"How did you know I was there?" she asked, glaring up at him.

"There's a crack under the door," he explained.

"So, tell us," Fred said excitedly, "how furious was she?"

"Umbridge? Livid," Sara smiled despite herself. "But Dumbledore covered it all up pretty well. She tried to get to me during class, but I was a good girl."

"That's our Sara," Fred commended. "Don't let the toad win."

"I've miss you," George said, retrieving her attention.

"It's been two days!" Sara laughed.

"When I get to see you everyday at school, two days seems like a lifetime," George admitted, kissing the tip of her nose.

"Ugh," Fred grumbled. "Disgusting."

"Shut up," they both laughed.

Holiday spirits were running high in the house. Harry had joined the festivities of decorating the house, and Fred and George hardly spent any time in their room now that Sara was there. Grimmauld Place looked like a different house now. Lights were strewn about the walls, and there were more Christmas trees than could be accounted for—some miniscule, some mid-size, and the one in the sitting room nearly touching the ceiling. The house consistently smelled of delicious food and pine needles. They spent their nights digesting enormous dinners and entertaining one another. Liam stopped by on occasion, and Sara's smile was always brightest then.

They awoke on Christmas morning to large stacks of presents at the feet of their beds. George and Fred had already broken into their Honeydukes chocolates from Ron before they were able to wake up Sara completely.

"Come on, love. You can sleep everyday, but not on Christmas," Fred said through a mouthful of chocolate.

"Fine," she groaned, sitting up and looking around with sleep in her eyes for a minute.

"Morning," Fred laughed.

"Happy Christmas," George cheered.

"I suppose it is, isn't it?" she yawned, stretching her arms over her head.

She dug into her presents, starting with the biggest. It was her package from Mrs. Weasley, complete with sweater, cakes, and pies. Lupin had given her a book about Transfiguration and the careers that could go along with it—he had always been one to listen. Her father had sent her a diamond necklace with a heart pendant; on the back was engraved "Today, Tomorrow, Always." She felt tears well up in her eyes as she clasped the necklace around her neck. It lay delicately in between her collarbones, shimmering up at her. Fred had gotten her a photo album with a few pictures of them already inside—where he'd gotten them, Sara didn't really know. She felt the tears well up again as she looked at a picture of them from her first year (their second).

"Well, I didn't want to make you cry about it!" Fred exclaimed as Sara stumbled from her bed and buried her face in his shoulder.

"It's not a bad crying," she whispered.

"Yeah, well, it's still crying," he retorted.

"Thank you, Freddie," she said, kissing his cheek lightly.

"You're welcome, love," he gave her a tight hug before allowing her to return to her presents.

There was one present left, and it wasn't from George (they had agreed to exchange presents that night, as it would commemorate a year since their first kiss). She picked up the tiny, square box and shook it gently. Something rattled around inside it. She pulled it open and found a rather old roll of film. She stared at it, wondering who it could have been from. There was no name on the box or inside.

"Hey, thanks!" Fred exclaimed suddenly.

Sara looked up and saw him holding a rather expensive bottle of Firewhiskey.

"Oh, sure," she laughed, putting the film back in the box. "It's for the day you open the shop. Save it."

"How on earth did you buy this? You aren't seventeen yet," he marveled, checking out the label.

"I have my ways," she winked.

She put all of the presents safely in her trunk, making sure that George's gift was still hidden away. She pulled on her sweater from Mrs. Weasley (orange and yellow horizontal stripes) and a pair of jeans while the boys were looking the other way.

"Come on, let's go see who else is up," she said, taking their arms and pulling them out the door.

However, all was not merry. A quiet sobbing could be heard from the landing of the stairs. It was Mrs. Weasley. She was sitting at the kitchen table, her face buried in a sweater. Lupin was sitting next to her, patting her back.

"Mum, what's wrong?" George asked, taken aback.

"It's P-P-Percy," she sobbed, unable to pull her face away from the sweater. "He se-sent it back. No n-note or anything! He won't even g-go visit your f-f-father in St. Mungos!"

"Mum, he's just being a prat," Fred tried to console her. "No better than a humongous pile of rat droppings."

Sara hit his arm to shut him up as Mrs. Weasley began to sob even harder, now rocking in her seat.

"Go upstairs," Sara hissed, pushing him and George out of the kitchen.

She took a seat on Mrs. Weasley's other side, laying her hand on her back in a similar fashion as Lupin's.

"Molly," Lupin tried, "he's young. He doesn't realize he needs family now more than ever. When he does, he'll come back. I guarantee it."

"You're right, Remus, you're r-right," she hiccupped. "Silly of me to get so upset."

"It's not silly," Sara corrected. "He's your son. You can cry about him sometimes."

"Oh, you're both right," she sighed, setting the sweater down on the table. "Thank you both."

Looking considerably better, she went to the stove and started making their lunch.

"Sara, could I see you for a moment?" Lupin asked, standing up from the table.

She followed him out into the sitting room, where they took a seat on one of the couches. He gave her his famous weary smile, and he pulled something out of his pocket.

"Thank you very much," he said, clasping the pocket watch she'd given him for Christmas.

"It seemed to suit you," she smiled shyly.

"I've already become quite attached to it," he said. "And… I have something for you."

He put the watch back in his pocket, and pulled out a folded slip of parchment. He handed it to her as if it was something delicate. She looked imploringly up at him.

"He didn't want it traveling through owl post, in case it was intercepted," Lupin said simply.

She opened up the parchment and immediately recognized her father's messy writing.

_Darling,  
><em>_I hope you have a good Christmas. I'm so sorry I can't be there to celebrate with you. I'm being worked to the bone, and it never seems to be enough for them. I do hope you like the necklace. I'll try to come by before you go back to school for the term. There is something I need to tell you though. Word is spreading through a few members of the Order about you kids forming a sort of coalition at Hogwarts to combat Umbridge. She is already suspicious of such activities, and continues to coerce the Minister into giving her more and more power at the school. If you are in fact a part of this coalition, I just want you to be careful. I learned when you were little not to try and tell you what to do because you'll simply do it anyway, and I know that you haven't changed much. I believe that you'll fight her tooth and nail for what's right. I just want you to watch out for her. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine, just look out for yourself.  
><em>_I love you,  
><em>_Dad_

She shook her head, a smile etched on her face. How very like her father to condone her illegal activities while just telling her to watch out—it was exactly what she did for the twins.

"So, word's been spreading, eh?" she looked up at Lupin with a raised eyebrow.

"Rumors," he corrected, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Well, they're all true," she said pointedly.

"We assumed as much," he chuckled, despite the circumstances. "I have the same advice as your father: _be careful_. If Umbridge finds out what you're doing, you could be expelled."

"I'm well aware of the risks," she stated seriously. "Thank you for your concern, but there's a part of me that just doesn't care if she finds out. I hate that woman."

"You really are your father's daughter," Lupin laughed.

They ate their Christmas lunch and headed off to St. Mungos to visit Mr. Weasley. They all piled into a car Mundungus had "borrowed for them," and made the short ride to the hospital. Sara had never been there before, and was actually quite excited to see what it was like. She was surprised when they pulled up to a large, shabby department store with chipped dummies in the windows. There were signs on the doors that claimed the store was closed for refurbishment. However, they all piled out of the car and Mundungus drove around the corner to wait for them. They drew up near the window, and Lupin said to one of the dummies, "We're here to see Arthur Weasley." To her surprise, the dummy nodded and beckoned them forward. They all stepped into the glass and appeared on the other side in a reception room, festively decorated for Christmas. They bypassed the witch in the Inquiries line and proceeded down a corridor lined with pictures of famous healers. For a second, Sara imagined her own picture up on the wall and smiled to herself.

"Here we are," Mrs. Weasley said, pushing open a door on the left.

Mr. Weasley was propped up in his bed just finishing his dinner. He looked a bit like a child who'd just done something bad.

"Everything all right, Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley asked as they all took seats around the bed.

"Fine, fine!" he exclaimed. "You—er—haven't seen Healer Smethwyck, have you?"

"No, why?" Mrs. Weasley asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Nothing, nothing," he tried waving her off, turning instead to his presents from them all.

"Arthur," Mrs. Weasley snapped as he'd leaned over to shake Harry's hand, "you've had your bandages changed. Why have you had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur? They told me they wouldn't need doing until tomorrow."

"What?" he asked, looking frightened. "No, no—it's nothing—it's—I… Well—now don't get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye had an idea… He's the Trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap and very interested in… um… complementary medicine… I mean, some of those old Muggle remedies… well, they're called _stitches_, Molly, and they work very well on—on Mugge wounds—"

Mrs. Weasley snarled dangerously. Sara, on the other hand, was trying to cover the snort of laughter that had just erupted from her. Bill stood up and muttered about going to get tea, and Fred and George leapt up to follow him, pulling a shaking Sara along in their wake. Once they'd stepped outside and shut the door, Sara leaned against the wall and let out the laugh she'd been holding in.

"What on earth are stitches?" Fred and George both asked.

"Th-they're a M-Muggle remedy. When you get a c-cut bad enough, you pretty much s-sew your skin back together," she tried explaining through her laughter. "I'm s-sure it wouldn't have worked with snake venom in his system."

"Dad's always been one to push the limits though," Bill laughed.

They followed him to the tearoom, where they sat around and talked about Bill's job cursebreaking in Egypt. It sounded fascinating. Now he was being sought out by Gringotts to come back to Britain and do some work here.

"What about you two?" he asked Fred and George, leaning back in his chair. "What are you two gonna do with your lives?"

They looked tentatively at one another. Sara knew they were gauging whether or not they could trust Bill with their secret.

"Well," Fred said, "we want to start a joke shop."

To their almighty surprise, Bill laughed.

"Since you were babies, you've been pulling pranks. It seems pretty fitting, doesn't it?" he asked, looking to Sara.

"Yeah," she smiled at them. "It does."

When they returned back to Grimmauld Place that night, Mrs. Weasley had mostly calmed down, though every so often she'd mutter to herself about "foolish Muggle remedies." They finished their dinner and sat around chatting until, eventually, they began to wander up to bed. Ginny and Hermione took their leave first, then Harry and Ron, then Lupin and Sirius, and finally an exhausted-looking Mrs. Weasley.

"Not too late, now," she chided as she headed up the stairs.

"I suppose I'll leave you be," Fred rolled his eyes after they heard Molly's door close. He Disapparated with a crack, leaving them alone in the sitting room.

"One year ago," George said, dimming the lights with a wave of his wand, casting them in a semi-darkness, "I watched you dancing around with that Russian prick, wondering why I hadn't managed to ask you first."

"One year ago, I was wondering who else would be good enough to go with you to the Yule Ball. I wondered if you really liked her, if you were going to date her. And then I realized the idea of that bothered me," she admitted.

He stood up and pulled her off of the couch, pulled her body against his, and swayed gently.

"One year ago, you and I danced just like this, in a room just like this, with no music. You kept trying to ask me who I went with, and I wouldn't tell you."

"That's because there wasn't anyone," she corrected.

"Because the only person I wanted to take was you," he admitted, pressing a kiss against her temple. "There was no one in the world I wanted as much as you."

He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He pressed it into Sara's hand, and she opened it. Inside was a silver bracelet inlaid with tiny diamonds. She gasped, looking up at George with awe.

"How did you—" she began.

"Fred and I each took a little bit of the money Harry gave us for ourselves before we started inventing," he explained. "I wanted to spend it on you."

She clasped it around her wrist, and pulled a small box out of her own pocket, pressing it into George's hand. He opened the box and found an old, weathered, silver ring inside. There was an eagle stamped in the center of it, and inscribed around the outside were the words "Fidelis et audax."

"It's my dad's family crest," she explained. "It means 'Faithful and bold.' He told me to give it to someone who I find means the world to me. And I did."

George looked down on her, fiddling with the bracelet on her arm. He slipped the ring on his finger and took her face in his hands. He felt it, so strong.

"I love you."

She looked up at him with those eyes that showed him every piece of her soul—those eyes like liquid emeralds. He was afraid of what she would say—he knew that was why he had questioned saying it—but when she looked at him like that, he knew.

"I love you too, George," she whispered.

He kissed her fiercely, their tongues locked in a battle for domination. His fingers curled in her blonde locks, trying to pull her even closer to him. They were on the couch now, George hovering just above her, seemingly trying to mold their lips together. She felt his fingers unbuttoning her blouse, pushing it to the side, his fingers exploring her bare stomach.

"So soft," he mumbled, his lips trailing down to her neck.

He bit down on the junction between her neck and shoulder blades, leaving a barely-noticeable mark. She moaned and threaded her fingers into his hair. He continued down and admired her body, taking it all in. Her black lace bra contrasted with her pale skin, and he noticed a large dusting of freckles on her shoulders. He kissed down her chest until his head was resting between her breasts. With bated breath, he reached out to unhook the clasp on the front of her bra…

"…thinks he can order me about, I'll show him, the scum, when he finds out, he'll be sorry. Coming into my mistress's house and doing what he likes. Bringing in blood traitor scum…"

In an instant, they were gone, Apparating upstairs and landing on the bed with a crack. Fred didn't even move.

"Fuck, Kreacher," George growled, burying his face in her neck.

"It's not like he meant to do it," Sara laughed quietly.

"Cockblocking little git," George growled.

"You'll get your chance," she promised.

"I love you," he whispered, now entirely unafraid to say it.

"I love you too," she said, clinging tighter to him.


	27. Whore

And so, they returned to Hogwarts for their second term. Mr. Weasley had been released from St. Mungos, Sara's father had been there to see her off at the Knight Bus, and George and Sara were in love. Not even Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons with Umbridge could bring Sara down from the cloud she was riding. She loved George, and she found great enjoyment in saying it as often as she could.

She also was spending a considerable amount of time helping the twins with their finances. They were spending less and less on developing products and were now paying the testers to see if the products worked the same on everyone. They'd often seek out the safety of their own dormitory, where Hermione never ventured.

Sara was sitting on one of the benches in the courtyard reading her Potions book. It was sparsely populated, as there was still snow on the ground. Sara always felt that the cold kept her alert, as opposed to sitting in front of the fire in the common room, where she often dozed off.

"What are you doing out here?"

She looked up to see George coming toward her, his shoulders hunched against the wind. She closed her book and set it off to the side. George sat down next to her and pulled her up against him.

"Reading," she replied casually.

"It's freezing out here!" he laughed.

"So I noticed," she said cheekily.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" he asked.

"No, Vector cancelled class, she's meeting with Dumbledore about something."

"You really need to learn how to make better use of your free time," he chided.

"I'm making perfectly good use of my free time, _George_," she jabbed at his chest. "Just because you don't like that I do homework."

"Overachiever," he teased.

_"Hem hem."_

Sara and George turned to see Umbridge staring at them. She was dressed in her green coat, making her look all the more toad-like.

"Miss Roth, I had expected better of you," Umbridge clucked. "I think a detention is necessary."

"Detention?" Sara repeated, pulling back from George. "For what?"

"Inappropriate public displays of affection," she ordered.

"But she didn't even do anything!" George retorted.

"Shall I make it a week then, Mr. Weasley?" Umbridge said darkly.

Sara laid her hand on George's arm, as she sensed he was about to attack Umbridge,

"Very good. Yes, five o'clock in my office, Miss Roth," Umbridge said, turning her back on them and heading down the path that led to Hagrid's hut.

"Inappropriate public displays of affection, my ass!" George exploded as they walked into the common room a few minutes later, startling a few of the lingering second years. "It's absolute bullshit! She's just looking for any reason to assign detentions now! And why didn't I get a detention too? You should have let me go at her."

"And get expelled?" she replied calmly, taking a seat on one of the couches.

"How are you so calm about this?" he exclaimed, staring wildly at her.

"Because when I let her see that she's gotten to me, she wins," Sara shrugged.

George visibly calmed down after that, and for the rest of the day they remained tucked away in the common room. After dinner, Sara made her way toward Umbridge's office, arriving at exactly five o'clock and knocking on the door.

"Come in," she said sweetly from the other side.

Sara pushed open the door and felt herself nearly retch. It reminded her of the house of an old woman who'd lived next door to Sara for years. Everything was covered in lace and doilies. Ornamental plates covered the walls, each with a different colored kitten on them, meowing and playing with balls of yarn. Umbridge was seated at her desk, wearing a horrible set of pink robes that made her look rather like an overinflated balloon.

"Good evening, Miss Roth. Go ahead, sit down," she gestured toward the table across from her desk.

Sara took a seat, noticing the parchment in front of her. She hadn't brought a quill and wondered if she'd be in more trouble for that.

"I'm going to have you write some lines for me this evening," she said. "You'll be using a special quill of mine."

She handed Sara a black quill with a sharp point. Sara eyed it warily, knowing it couldn't mean anything pleasant.

"And what is it you'd like me to write, Professor?" she asked politely.

"I would like you to write _'I must not act like a whore,'_" she said with a smirk.

Sara felt every nerve in her body tense. _Whore_. She had never, in her entire life, thought that she'd acted like a whore. Still, with her teeth clenched tightly together, she looked down at the parchment and began to write: _I must not act like a whore._ The words appeared in blood red ink, and at the same moment, Sara felt a sharp pain stab through her arm. She lifted her sleeve to see the words _'I must not act like a whore'_ etched into the underside of her forearm. Then, she watched it disappear, leaving the area red and welted. Sara looked up to see Umbridge watching her curiously.

"Yes?" she asked innocently.

"Nothing at all, Professor," Sara replied, looking back down at the parchment.

Over and over again, Sara wrote the line _'I must not act like a whore,'_ and over and over again, she felt the searing pain in her arm. She stopped looking at it and instead concentrated on holding back the tears that threatened to fall with each word. Sara didn't know how long she'd been there. It was dark outside, and she knew it had been for a while. Her arm soon began to feel numb, and her sleeve was drenched with blood.

"Come here," Umbridge finally said.

Sara stood up and walked over to her. Umbridge grabbed her arm and pulled the sleeve up. The words were etched readably in Sara's arm, and blood was trickling down onto her hand.

"I believe the words have sunk in, you may go," she bade Sara away, returning to her papers on her desk.

Without a word, Sara left the room, her face composed until she'd made it down the hall, where she finally burst into tears. She ripped her sleeve down over the words and ran as fast as she could back to Gryffindor tower, passing only Mrs. Norris on the way. She shouted the password at the Fat Lady and nearly tripped climbing into the portrait hole. Fred and George were sitting on the couch. George was on his feet in an instant, but Sara ran past them and up to her dormitory, his voice dying away as she slammed the door.

She stumbled into the bathroom, ripping her robe off in the process. The whole left sleeve was heavy with blood. She laid her left arm in the sink and let the blood stain the pristine white porcelain scarlet. She didn't dare turn on the water. She tried as hard as she could to heal the injuries, but every time she managed to seal them up, they ripped back open.

The injuries were only part of the reason for her sobs. It was true that they were incredibly painful and even a little scary to look at. But there was more to it than just that. She had been branded a whore. It was permanently etched into her skin. Still a virgin, and yet she'd been stamped a slut who spreads her legs for money. She dropped to her knees and laid her forehead against the cool porcelain edge of the sink. She felt dizzy, probably from blood loss, and before she knew it, she'd fallen unconscious, a black void that she welcomed gratefully.

When Sara opened her eyes, they felt extremely heavy. She attempted to sit up, but realized that was going to be an impossible feat. Using all of her strength, she opened her eyes. It took a moment to realize that she was in her bed. Her left arm was heavily bandaged, and it felt almost pleasantly tingly. On her right, George was asleep, his head on the mattress, his fingers wound around hers. And, in front of her…

"Professor Dumbledore?" she choked out, wondering if perhaps she was imagining things.

"I'm glad to see you awake, Miss Roth," he said calmly, but there was something in his voice she was not used to.

"Sir, how did I get here?" she asked.

"Well, Mr. Wesley came to find Professor McGonagall when he realized he could not come up here on his own. He explained what had happened, and she came to me immediately. I found you in the bathroom, unconscious. Mr. Weasley was quite frantic; I think he believed you to be dead. But I brought you out here, cleaned up your arm, put some cooling herbs on it, and bandaged it up. Your robe is being cleaned as well. I insisted that you were fine, but Mr. Weasley would not budge. I've sent Leanne and Katie into the seventh-year's room for the night," he explained.

"You… You saw what it said," she bit her lip, feeling the tears returning.

"I did," he said, the edge returning. "And I am quite glad I did."

Sara shook her head as she felt the tears falling again. She wanted to hide her face from him, but she couldn't.

"Miss Roth, I would like you to listen to me for a moment," he said sternly, coming up on her left side. "Had I known of this detention beforehand, I would have put a stop to it immediately. Of all the students in this school, I believe you to be least likely to deserve a detention for acting like a whore. Unfortunately, I was not fast enough to stop it. I can only ask you to inform me if you ever receive such an attention again, and I will put a stop to it."

"Y-yes sir," she sniffled.

"Please take what I mean to heart," Dumbledore implored. "Despite what she believes, Dolores Umbridge does not have control at my school, and she has no right to injure my students. I will put a stop to this."

Sara nodded dutifully, feeling herself waking up more.

"I must return to my office. I've left another Sleeping Draught here for you. Take it soon. You've been excused from Potions in the morning, but I don't believe Professor Umbridge would be too keen on you missing her class. You should remove those bandages before you leave for her class."

"Thank you, sir," she said, trying to find a smile for him.

"Mr. Weasley may stay for the night, I've lifted the enchantments until the morning. Good night, Miss Roth," he bade her farewell with a small tip of his head before closing the door behind him.

Sara sighed heavily, feeling her tears subside. The marks would never fade, she had already gathered that, but to know that Dumbledore was on her side brought her some comfort. As did the redhead snoozing at her bedside. She squeezed his hand gently, and he lifted his head off the mattress.

"Sara," he said, sleep still in his voice. "You're okay. I-I'm sorry. I had to tell them what happened."

"I know," she smiled down at him. "Dumbledore just left."

"I… I'm sorry I had to be the one tell them, but I'm not sorry it happened. They needed to know."

"I know," she said, squeezing his hand again. "Thank you for telling them. You take such good care of me."

"I hate her," he growled. "I hate her so much."

"Please, George. Please, don't do anything," she pleaded. "Dumbledore says he's going to take care of it. I don't want you to do anything."

"But Sara—" he tried.

"If you do anything, I'll… I'll break up with you," she threatened.

"No you won't," he smirked.

"Please, George, please…" she begged.

"I'm not going to do anything," he sighed. "I… When she called you in for detention… I mean, I've had to do it before."

He lifted his hand up and showed her the words _"I must not tell lies"_ etched onto his wrist.

"Why did I never see this?" she exclaimed, taking his hand in her free one.

"I didn't want you to worry," he shrugged. "Mine was never… That bad though."

She moved over a little and made room for him on the bed, allowing him to snuggle up next to her good arm. He helped her take her Sleeping Draught, and in minutes she'd fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder.

She awoke the next morning feeling well-rested. George was gone, but her breakfast was waiting for her on her bedside table. She sat up and began to unwind the bandages on her arm. _"I will not act like a whore"_ was still very clearly tattooed in her skin, still not quite scabbed over either. She washed her hair without getting her arm wet and slipped into her robes trying not to rub against the scars too much. She gobbled up her oatmeal before rushing out the door, not wanting to give Umbridge the satisfaction of seeing her late to class.

"There you are!" Katie exclaimed as Sara screeched to a halt in line behind her.

"Here I am," she laughed, slightly out of breath.

"What happened last night?" she asked quietly. "Dumbledore told us we had to stay in the seventh-year's room. Are you okay?"

"I'm alright, I'm fine," she brushed off Katie with a wave of her right hand.

At that moment Umbridge waddled up to her door and opened it for the students. Sara took her usual seat next to Katie and tried not to wince as she knocked her arm against the desk.

"Students," she said after they had all taken their seats, "today you'll be reading chapter 24 of _defensive Magical Theory_. There will be no need to talk."

As they did everyday, they each took out their books and opened it to the chapter they were supposed to be reading. A few of them began to read the first few lines, while others merely stared down at their books, and others still were staring off into space. Sara was one of the latter, staring at a hole in the desk that was beginning to look more and more like a crater in the moon. When a shadow crossed over the desk, Sara looked up into the toad-like face that made her blood boil.

"Miss Roth," she said with mock sweetness, "have you finished the reading already?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," she replied with a grimace.

"Then perhaps you can tell me what the Gemino curse does?" she asked quietly.

"Well, it creates a duplicate of an item, but that's not in this chapter, it's in chapter 28," she corrected.

Sara noticed a muscle in Umbridge's face twitching almost out of control. She had been trying to make Sara look like an idiot, and it had backfired entirely.

"Is that backtalk I hear, Miss Roth?" she asked.

"Of course not, Professor Umbridge," Sara said innocently.

"I should hope not," she threatened, and Sara had an idea of what she was going at.

She turned back toward the front of the room and Sara rolled her eyes. It would take a lot more than that for Umbridge to get her worked up, and it would take a lot more than words to get her down.


	28. Birthday

The start of March brought with it a new spring in the twins' steps. They had perfected their Skiving Snackboxes enough to make them marketable. They'd also made contact with a distributor who'd sell them similar products that they sold Zonkos and would give them a bit of a loan to do it with. Not to mention, they still had a considerable amount of their money from Harry left. They were now scouring the Daily Prophet's classified section every morning, searching for an empty space for the shop. The dreary end-of-March weather couldn't even get them down, and they approached Sara at the breakfast table on their birthday, April 1, looking happier than she'd seen them all year.

"What's this now?" she asked, setting down the book she'd been reading.

They sat down on either side of her, looking extremely giddy. Fred looked around, making sure no teachers were close by, before laying down the paper that he'd been holding. Sara noticed the section that had been circled in red ink and read it carefully:

_Number Ninety-Three, Diagon Alley. Spacious, four stories, live-in apartment on top floor. Needs some renovation. 50 Galleons/month. Contact information…_

She looked up to see them gazing down at her expectantly. A smile broke out over her face.

"Have you contacted them yet?" she asked.

"We got the owl back from him this morning," Fred said excitedly.

"Told us the renovations are minimal," George added.

"Apparently it's enormous."

"And exactly what we need."

"You've got plenty left for a few months too," she said, remembering the unexpectedly large amount she'd noticed in the bag when she'd gone through their most recent receipts.

"I think we're gonna do it," Fred smiled from ear to ear.

"Happy birthday, by the way," she said.

"What a good birthday," George chuckled.

_"Hem hem."_

It was with a great amount of self-control that Sara managed to keep the look of contempt off of her face as she turned to face her newfound enemy at the school.

"Yes, Professor Umbridge?" Sara asked with mock sweetness.

"Who are you getting post from, boys?" she asked, ignoring Sara completely.

"Our parents," they both replied without missing a beat.

"Hm, and what do they have to say?" she asked, now suspicious.

"How we're getting home for Easter," they said, in sync once again.

"Hmph," she glared, turning on her heel and bobbing away from them.

"Planning that, were you?" Sara smirked when she was out of earshot.

"We figured something like that would happen," Fred shrugged.

"Nothing's getting us down today though," George said cheerily.

"I have to go to class," she said, standing up and pulling her bag onto her shoulder.

"Boring," they both pouted.

"The fact that it is the almighty Weasley twin's birthday does not excuse the entire school from classes," she chided.

She leaned down and gave George a quick kiss before heading off to Charms.

But Sara had no intention of brushing off this day as any other. That afternoon, she went to Harry and asked if she could borrow the Marauder's Map for the night—he pretty much had to give it to her when she gave him her pouty look. When they returned to the common room that night, she took Fred up into his dormitory and gave him his present.

"Blimey, thanks!" Fred exclaimed, admiring the rather expensive-looking cologne she'd gotten him.

"Happy birthday," she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

"So, why isn't George up here with us?" He gasped dramatically. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"In your dreams," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "I need a favor."

"What's up?" he asked, setting the cologne on his bedside table.

"I need to borrow George tonight," she said, pulling at her sleeve.

"Are you asking my permission?" he asked.

"Kind of," she shrugged.

Fred eyed her for a minute before laughing loudly. Sara looked taken aback.

"Love, you have my blessing," he patted her arm.

"Thanks," she smiled warmly.

"So… Exciting birthday plans?" Fred asked with a mischievous smirk.

Sara flushed a red that would rival a tomato.

"Maybe," she mumbled.

"Well, enjoy yourself," he winked.

Sara returned to the common room and took a seat next to George on the couch, waiting for the room to clear out a bit. It wasn't until about 10 o'clock that the sparsely populated common room was empty enough.

"George," Sara leaned over and whispered in his ear, "go get your books that you'll need for tomorrow. Don't ask, just do it."

With a quizzical expression, he stood up and wandered up the stairs, returning a few minutes later with his bag slung over his shoulder. She reached into her bag, pulled out the parchment, and tapped it with her wand. An intricate detail of Hogwarts appeared on the parchment, complete with little dots indicating where people where. She could see her dot, along with Fred's and George's, in the Gryffindor common room.

"What's this now?" he asked, peeking over her shoulder.

"Come on," she said, stuffing the map and wand into her pocket, picking up her own bag, and taking George by the arm.

"Where are we going?" he asked as they approached the portrait hole.

"No questions," she demanded.

George looked back to Fred, who just winked at him. Sara pulled him out of the common room and into the corridor. They ran quickly through the hall and up a hidden set of stairs.

"Wait, wait, wait," Sara said out of breath, leaning against the wall in the staircase.

Sara pulled the parchment out of her pocket and scanned it. The only person roaming the halls was Mrs. Norris, and she was on the first floor.

"All clear?" he asked.

"We're good, come on," she ordered, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the stairwell.

"Are you ever going to tell me where we're going?" he asked.

"It's your birthday _surprise_, not your birthday tell-all," she chided.

However, he had a vague idea of where they were going when they stopped in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Sara closed her eyes for a moment, and a door appeared on the blank stretch of wall. When she opened her eyes, she looked up at him expectantly. He reached out and turned the handle, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The room was considerably different from its setup during their D.A. lessons. It was more of a bedroom style, with a massive four-poster bed decked in fluffy pillows and blankets. He noticed a bathroom off to the right. The door clicked behind him, and he turned to see Sara leaning against it and looking up at him with a devious gleam in her eye.

"What's this now?" he laughed, crossing his arms over his chest.

She sauntered toward him, curling her fingers around his tie and pressing her body against his. She swept her eyes up to meet his own, and deep in those pools of liquid emeralds, he saw what was unmistakably _want_. He leaned down and captured her lips in a heated kiss, his fingers hooking under her chin and lifting it up. He nibbled on her bottom lip and lazily dipped his tongue into her mouth, letting it tease her own. She whined against his lips, lifting herself up onto her toes in an attempt to further close the distance between them. She began to push against him, forcing him backwards until his legs hit the bed and his knees buckled. He fell backwards, bringing her down on top of him. She pulled her sweater off and tossed it to the floor.

"George," she moaned huskily, pulling at his sweater.

He lifted his torso off the bed to pull his own sweater up and over his head, tossing it to the side. He did the same with his tie and allowed her fingers to nimbly undo the buttons of his button-down, sliding the sleeves down his toned arms and tracing her fingers over the sharply contoured muscles. His Beater's body was definitely a turn-on for her. She looked back up at his face in time to see the famous smirk before she was flipped onto her back, George hovering nimbly over her.

"Slick git," she rolled her eyes.

He busied himself with the buttons of her shirt, popping each one out of the hole at a painstakingly slow speed, revealing a new inch of creamy skin with every button. After popping the last one out, he pushed the fabric to the side and down her arms. He had seen her in the dim light of Grimmauld Place, but it had been nothing compared to how beautiful she looked now. Her red lace bra stood out against her wonderfully pale skin and hid her breasts tantalizingly from him. He ran his hands over her soft stomach, and up, resting just beneath her breasts. Now there was no Kreacher or Malfoy to interrupt. He reached the front clasp and, unable to contain himself, unhooked it and pushed it away. Her breasts sprang free, and he made a noise he'd never heard before. He cupped them tentatively, aware that they were more than a handful, before leaning down and capturing a pert nipple in his mouth. Sara groaned as George's teeth gently closed around the diamond peak. He moved over and lavished the same attention on the other one, while pinching the first one teasingly between his thumb and forefinger.

From there, he trailed down, his lips ghosting over the flesh of her stomach. He dipped his tongue into her navel, making her giggle. She felt his fingers tuck into the waistband of her skirt, and she kicked her shoes off in preparation. He slid her skirt and stockings down together, tossing them aside with the rest of their clothes. He kissed each of her hips delicately, running his hands up and down her creamy thighs. Her red lace panties were the only thing keeping her from him. She wiggled under his touch as his hands crept further up her thighs. His growing curiosity was finally too much, and he allowed his hand to slide between her thighs. She groaned again as he rubbed against her core.

"Merlin," he marveled. "So wet."

Her panties were thoroughly soaked, and only got wetter as he rubbed at her. She threw her head back on the pillow, moving her hips with his hands. He felt his pants growing uncomfortably tighter as she moaned.

"George," she whined. "Take them off."

He hooked his fingers in the top of her underwear and pulled them down her thighs. The sight of her sex, covered in short blond curls, made him growl. He could smell her, and it was a powerful aroma. He leaned down and buried his nose in her, drawing in a great, rattling breath. He ran his tongue up the length of her slit, and she groaned again. He was experimenting now, as he slipped two fingers into her wet entrance.

"Fuck," she groaned.

"So tight," he marveled, finding a great deal of resistance as he wiggled his fingers inside of her.

She moved her own hand down and began to rub at her clit as he pumped his fingers rhythmically. He watched her movements for a moment before pushing her hand away and rubbing it himself. When he finally pulled his fingers out of her, she whimpered at the loss of friction.

"Do you… Do you want this?" he asked tentatively, very aware of what the next course of action was.

She opened her eyes and looked up into his chocolate brown ones, so full of hesitation and want. Despite her own growing lust, she smiled softly up at him.

"More than anything," she admitted.

Her hands were fumbling with his belt buckle, frantically trying to remove the only layers of clothing now separating them. He kicked his shoes and socks off, slid his pants and boxers down, and threw them off to the side. Her fingers wrapped around him, and he groaned at the contact. She pumped it slowly, enjoying his torment as he tried to hold himself up over her. She slid her thumb over the slick head, teasing him.

"George, wait."

He managed to hold in the groan of disappointment. He assumed she was changing her mind, and to have come this far and just stop was killing him. But she didn't appear to want to stop. She reached over and picked up her wand off of the side table, pointed it toward his pelvis, and muttered _"Contraptivo."_ He looked up at her with a confused expression.

"Don't want any little accidents, now, do we?" she winked.

"Bloody brilliant, you are," he said, leaning down and kissing her fiercely.

He took his cock in his hand and gave it a few strokes for good measure. So many times he'd imagined this, and now it was finally coming true. He moved it over her slit, coating it in her juices, teasing her miserably. She whined and moved her hips against his.

"George, please."

With those words, he positioned himself at her entrance and eased himself inside of her. Her walls were almost painfully tight around him as he buried himself to the hilt inside of her, pushing against and breaking the feeble barrier. Sara cried out and dug her nails into his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, planting feather-soft kisses against her neck. "I'm so sorry."

"Do it again," she pleaded.

He pulled himself out and buried himself deep within her again. He growled as her walls gripped around his cock. She whimpered, her nails tearing into his skin, but she already felt the pain ebbing away and something else pooling in the pit of her stomach.

"Keep going," she demanded.

He started a slow rhythm, trying not to hurt her, but she had already forgotten the pain. She wrapped a leg around his waist, allowing him to go even deeper. She moved her hips with his and threw her head back against the pillow, feeling the hot coil in her stomach growing, growing. He caught her lips in a frantic kiss, his teeth catching her bottom lip. He moved faster now, trying to find the places that made her cry out.

"George," she whimpered. "Don't stop."

"Never," he vowed, picking up his pace.

She could feel the tension in her body growing. Her hands were frantic—digging into his shoulders, running through his hair. She was so close. She could feel it, toeing the edge of the cliff.

"George! I'm… I'm…" she cried.

He could feel her walls tightening painfully around him. He slammed himself into her as deep as he could go.

"GEORGE!" she screamed.

Her release felt white hot, spreading through every nerve in her body. He only managed a few more thrusts before grunting her name and exploding. He dropped onto the bed next to her, exhausted. They were panting heavily, both of them slick with sweat. Still, he reached his arms out and pulled her toward him, tangling his body around hers.

"George," she said, her breathing now falling into a rhythmic pattern, "happy birthday."

"Best fucking birthday ever," he chuckled.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

And, content, they both fell sound asleep.


	29. Tricks

Sara and George were what could only be considered the "power couple" of the school. She knew she'd heard people talking about them in the halls—whether good or bad, she never stopped to listen. George had people coming up to him a few times a week, asking if he was dating "that Roth girl."

"I wish you'd take these exams seriously," Sara said wistfully as they were heading toward the Room of Requirement.

"We're taking them as seriously as we feel is necessary," Fred shrugged.

"Which is not at all," Sara corrected.

"It won't matter how we did on our Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.s once we own a joke shop," George said.

"Still," she sighed.

They hadn't picked up a book to study since the previous term, and despite their reassurances, it was making Sara nervous. She'd never been able to simply not study for a test, regardless of how confident she felt for it. Of course, the twins did not share her philosophy of hard work, and she had accepted that about them. But that didn't mean she didn't have to push them a bit.

They joined the other members of the D.A. in the Room of Requirement, taking their seats on their cushions around the room and waiting. When Harry finally stood up, the room fell silent.

"So… Today we're gonna be starting with Patronuses."

The whole room was filled with an excited whisper. Harry had to raise his voice to be heard.

"I just need to be clear. It's going to be way different when you're facing a dementor in the dark. We're in a well-lit room, and there's really no danger here. You just have to remember—"

"Come on, Harry, we just need to know that we _can_ do it!" Sara laughed.

"Alright, well partner up, we're going back to back, and one partner at a time," he said.

Sara paired up with Katie and stood back to back, facing a smiling George.

"Now, before you can even produce a Patronus," Harry added, "you have to think of a memory, the happiest memory you have. The best memory. Then, once you have that, while you're still concentrating on the memory, say _'Expecto Patronum.'_ Now, one partner at a time."

Katie went first. Sara could tell she was concentrating hard, and she imagined that her eyes were closed even though she couldn't see her. Then, she raised her wand and said _"Expecto Patronum."_ A wisp of silver smoke erupted from her wand, and took shape into a lamb. It was only there for a moment before vanishing in a rush of silver smoke.

"Damn," she cursed.

"That's okay, that's really good," Harry said at her arm. "Sara, why don't you have a go."

Sara closed her eyes and searched for a memory. There were a few running through her mind, but one seemed to be most powerful at the time—the first time George had told her that he loved her. She opened her eyes and locked onto George's brown ones, still peering intently at her. She raised her wand, the memory still fresh in her mind, and said _"Expecto Patronum."_ A sharp burst of light slid from the tip of her wand and dropped to the floor. It was a snake of enormous size, probably a python.

"Blimey," she murmured.

It slithered along the ground and began to coil around her feet. It looked up at her with milky, silver eyes and flicked its tongue.

"Sara, that's amazing!" Harry exclaimed.

"Thanks," she blushed.

He moved on to the twins, who were still staring at the snake now slithering onto Sara's shoulders.

"Fred, why don't you go next," Harry suggested.

Katie and Sara (and the snake, who was perched on her shoulders protectively) watched as Fred closed his eyes and screwed up his face in concentration. He raised his wand and muttered _"Expecto Patronum."_ A flash of light, and then a monkey stood before him, dancing about. Sara doubled over and Katie fell on the floor laughing. It was perfect.

"I like him," Fred smirked as he sauntered up to Fred's side and sat down.

"A striking resemblance," Sara managed through her bout of laughter.

"How about you, George," Harry suggested, though laughing along with them.

George too closed his eyes and concentrated hard, searching for a memory. The first one to come to mind was his second kiss with Sara the day after Christmas, after she'd said she wanted to be his girlfriend. He raised his wand and said, _"Expecto Patronum."_ The silver smoke that emerged from his wand tip took shape in the form of a raccoon.

"AWWWWW!" Katie and Sara both cooed.

"How is that thing better than mine?" Fred cried.

"It's so cute!" Sara exclaimed.

"They're not really supposed to be cute," Harry corrected. "They're supposed to protect you."

"They can be both!" Katie laughed.

Harry moved on to check on the others who still seemed to be struggling while Katie tried to get her lamb to last for longer than a few seconds. Sara's snake and George's raccoon were playing—something Sara didn't really think possible in a Patronus. Fred's was still by his side, scratching his head.

"I think he's neat," Fred shrugged.

"I like yours too, Freddie," Sara laughed.

Fred's Patronus suddenly vanished in a puff of smoke.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You stopped concentrating on it. Watch."

Sara lowered her wand and allowed her thoughts to wander. Her Patronus too vanished, leaving Fred's raccoon rolling on the floor alone.

"Your snake is pretty cool," Fred admitted, throwing an arm around her shoulder.

"Thanks!" she replied cheerily.

Suddenly, the few Patronuses that had been conjured throughout the room disappeared. Dobby the house elf had run in, looking panic-stricken.

"Harry Potter, sir…" he squeaked. "Harry Potter, sir… Dobby has come to warn you… but the house-elves have been warned not to tell…"

Without warning, Dobby flew at the wall, smashing his head into it. Sara gasped, clasping her hand over her mouth. He bounced off of the wall due to the multitude of hats on top of his head.

"What's happened, Dobby?" Harry asked, grabbing him to prevent him from running at the wall again.

"Harry Potter… she… she…"

He began to punch himself repeatedly.

"Who's 'she,' Dobby?"

But Sara knew. The only "she" who could fill Dobby with such fear for their safety.

"Umbridge," she muttered at the same moment Harry had asked it.

"What about her? Dobby— she hasn't found out about this— about us— about the D.A.?" Harry asked in horror. "Is she coming?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, yes!" Dobby cried.

Harry turned to face all of them, each face full of horror.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? RUN!" he shouted.

Sara, Fred, and George all grabbed their bags and ran. They knew they wouldn't make it back to the dormitory in time—but that was through the normal corridors. Luckily, she was with the two people in the entire school who knew every secret passageway. The broke away from the pack and ran the other way, toward a hidden staircase that led straight to the first floor. They raced down the stairs and slipped under the tapestry. They appeared right in front of Professor McGonagall's office, and right in front of Professor McGonagall.

"What on earth are you three doing?" she asked, her hand clasped over her chest. Evidently, they had scared her.

"S-sorry… Professor…" Sara tried to catch her breath.

"Go in my office, now," she pushed the door open and pushed the three of them inside, but did not follow them in. "I will be back shortly."

She closed the door behind her and they could hear her shoes click along the floor. Sara took the seat in front of her desk, and Fred and George pulled up chairs on either side of her. They sat in silence for a while, not really knowing what to say.

"This is bad," Sara mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I hope everyone else got away alright," George said.

"We should've stayed back, made sure they were all okay," Sara worried.

"There wasn't anything we could do, and we would've been in even worse shit," Fred said.

"This is bad," she repeated.

It was a while before rhe door to her office flew open, and Professor McGonagall marched in, looking furious. She paced up and down in front of the three of them for a moment, as if trying to calm herself down. Finally she took a seat behind her desk and stared intently at them, her expression still angry, but less so.

"Explain," she commanded.

The three of them began to speak at once, very incoherently. Professor McGonagall raised her hand and silenced them.

"One at a time."

"We've… Well, we… Professor, Umbridge isn't teaching us how to defend ourselves, and we need to know how!" Sara exclaimed.

"We've been meeting in the Room of Requirement and taking lessons from Harry," Fred added.

"Someone must have snitched, it's the only way anyone could have known," George said.

"Yes, someone indeed," McGonagall huffed. "But that is beside the point. A list of names was discovered in the room, a list that will undoubtedly contain your names. Professor Dumbledore is gone, and—"

"GONE?" the three of them cried at the same time.

"Yes, gone. I expect her reign of terror is just beginning," McGonagall said darkly. "At any rate, she is under the assumption that tonight was the only meeting of your little group that has ever taken place. I expect this to remain the story. Now, if you two would wait just outside, I'd like to speak with Miss Roth for a moment."

The twins, though taken aback, complied immediately. They were actually quite surprised that they weren't being punished. They slipped out the door and waited just outside. Professor McGonagall sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.

"Miss Roth, I simply must ask. You're a bright young girl. Why would you risk it all for something like this? I'm quite certain you know most of the magic that Mr. Potter is teaching you," she asked curiously, peering at Sara over her glasses.

Sara looked hesitantly away, then pulled the left sleeve of her robe up. The words were still etched legibly into her skin: _"I must not act like a whore."_ McGonagall gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth.

"I needed to take a stand for what I think is right. I fully intend to join the order when I come of age, but for now, this is what I can do. She can't win. And it's not just about her. V-Voldemort is back. Whoever killed my mother will probably be coming after me next. I just need to know that I'm doing what I can to fight."

McGonagall stared at Sara for a moment before nodding gravely.

"I remember your mother. She was not in my house, but she was my student. The brightest of her year, and not afraid to speak her mind. Just like you, Miss Roth," McGonagall said knowingly.

"Thank you, ma'am," Sara tried to smile.

"Watch yourself around her," McGonagall warned.

"I will."

"I'll walk you three back to your common room," she said standing up.

Fred and George were leaning against the wall outside. They stepped up on either side of Sara and followed McGonagall up the corridor. She didn't speak until they'd reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Things are changing. Be careful," she advised before turning on her heel and walking back to her office.

They stepped into the common room to see numerous pairs of eyes on them. It seemed like the entirety of the D.A. was sitting up in the Gryffindor common room, though Sara knew that wasn't true.

"Thank goodness!" Hermione exclaimed. "We were so worried she'd gotten you."

"Is everyone else here?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled. "But Dumbledore's—"

"Gone, yeah, we heard," Sara said, leaning against the back of the couch.

"McGonagall told us," George added.

"She probably saved our hides too, dragged us into her office," Fred said, plopping down next to Angelina.

"I can't believe that stupid Marietta," Ron grumbled.

"Marietta Edgecombe?" Sara asked incredulously. "_She_ was the snitch?"

"Yep, boils and all," Harry replied grimly.

"Well, I'm just waiting for the shit to hit the fan now," Sara muttered. "It's going to happen."

And happen it did. The next morning, Educational Decree Number Twenty-Eight was passed, declaring Dolores Umbridge as the new Head of Hogwarts. Along with that, the new Inquisitorial Squad had taken to docking points of anyone they didn't like—Sara heard that Montague had shouted at Colin Creevey for getting too close to him on his way down to breakfast. But Fred and George were not going to take it in stride. That morning, they approached Sara at the breakfast table with identical smirks on their face.

"What are you planning?" she asked, not looking up from the book she was reading.

"With Dumbledore gone—" Fred started.

"—we think Umbridge might need some reminding of her place," George added.

"Her head's getting a little too big for her own good."

"If I were you, I wouldn't wander too far during lunch. Maybe get to the Great Hall as fast as you can," George suggested.

She wanted to reprimand, but her new hatred for Umbridge prevented her from doing so. Instead, she just shook her head and smiled.

"Don't get caught," she warned.

Sara tackled her double Herbology and Arithmancy lessons with renewed interest. Professor Sprout was keen to hand out points for anything that could be considered helpful—Sara received points for passing Katie a trowel. After Arithmancy, Sara quickly made her way into the Great Hall, taking a seat as close to the door as she could. Fred and George were nowhere in sight. Hermione and Ron entered without Harry and took a seat across from Sara. She was just about to take a bite of her sandwich when a great _BOOM!_ rattled the ceiling. Sara, Ron, and Hermione were the first ones to the door of the Great Hall.

It was quite a spectacle, actually. Fireworks were booming throughout the Entrance Hall, and not a small amount either. A massive dragon weaved its way through the corridors, spitting fireworks from its mouth. Rockets similar to the smaller one that they'd showed Sara the year before were vaulting through the air, trailing colors behind them. There were Catherine wheels everywhere, spinning out of control. Sparklers were spewing profanity onto the air itself, and firecrackers were echoing off the walls, reverberating through the school. Filch and Umbridge were staring at them on the stairs, quite horrified. She tried to stun one of them, but it merely exploded and came after her.

"Brilliant," Sara smiled, admiring the fireworks with an awed expression.

Umbridge could not have enjoyed her first day as Headmistress, trying to suppress the fireworks throughout the school. They spent their entire double Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson reliving their favorite fireworks, as Umbridge had showed up only long enough to tell them to read before running off. That night, Fred and George were honored in the common room. Sara found herself in the center of the crowd, George's arm thrown over her shoulder.

"Those were amazing!"

"Where can I get me some of those?"

"I heard Umbridge tried to vanish some and couldn't get away from them for five minutes!"

"Bloody brilliant!"

"They were wonderful fireworks," Hermione said with a smile.

"Thanks!" George looked taken aback. "Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. Only thing is, we used our whole stock, we're going to have to start again from scratch now…"

"It was worth it, though!" Fred shouted over the crowd of people clambering to place their orders with him. "If you want to add your name to the waiting list, Hermione, it's five Galleons for your Basic Blaze box and twenty for the Deflagration Deluxe…"

Eventually, the crowd thinned out and most people wandered off to bed. Sara, Fred, and George were lounging on one of the couches, watching out the window as a few fireworks were now soaring across the grounds. One of the Catherine wheels had collided with a rocket and produced glittering pink sparks. The embers were dying, leaving the room cast in a dim glow. It was past midnight now, but they were past the point of caring.

"There's something you're not telling me," Sara said suddenly.

Both of the twins looked over at her and saw her staring resolutely out the window. Finally, Fred sighed heavily.

"We… We got the shop, Sara," he said.

"And the first month of rent is free too," George added.

"That's great," she said, her expression unchanging. "But that's not it."

"Well…" Fred tried, but he realized he couldn't say it.

"It's nothing," George said. "We're not doing it."

"George—"

"No, I said it's nothing," he stopped him.

"He told us that if we want it, we'll need to be in there before the month is up," Fred said quietly.

The information settled over Sara, and she knew that they'd known about this for a while.

"So… What does this mean?" she asked, still staring out the window.

"It doesn't mean anything, we're not doing it. We'll find another place," George said hastily.

"George, mate, come on—" Fred tried.

"I said we'll find another place."

"No you won't," Sara said sternly, turning finally to look at him. "This is what you've dreamed of your whole life. You're not going to find another place."

George stared at her in awe. In the dim light, he could see the tears trailing down her cheeks. He opened his mouth to protest, but Fred beat him to it.

"Are you gonna miss us?" Fred asked.

"Oh, Fred," Sara exclaimed, turning to him and throwing her arms around him.

She began to cry into his shoulder, and he looked taken aback.

"Hey, I-I'm sorry!" he exclaimed.

"Stop it," she sniffled. "I never act like a girl around you two, but we cry sometimes. Get over it."

Fred chuckled and rubbed her back. It was true, Sara was usually so strong around them, sometimes they forgot she did girly things too.

"It's not like it's goodbye or anything," Fred said, laying his head against hers. "We're not going anywhere far."

"I know," she rubbed her eyes.

"I'll let you two speak your peace," he leaned over and kissed her cheek before heading off to the dormitory.

Sara and George sat on the couch in silence for a while. The fireworks were still zooming around the grounds, lighting up the sky with every color imaginable. Sara leaned over and tucked herself under George's arm.

"Why would you want to give up your dream just like that?" she asked.

"Because… Because I don't want to leave you," he replied quietly.

"You can't get away from me that easily," she chided.

She laced her fingers with his, and he noticed for the first time just how small her hands were, and yet how perfectly they seemed to fit in his own. The way her body felt nestled into his was perfect. Everything about her…

"Perfect," he mumbled.

"What?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Perfect," he repeated. "You're perfect. And I love you."

"I love you too," she said.

She leaned up and captured his lips, and his free hand reached down to cup her cheek. There were fresh tears sliding down her cheeks, and he wiped them away with his thumb. He rested his forehead against hers, and she sighed heavily.

"If I told you that I didn't want you go, would you stay?" she asked.

"In a heartbeat," he replied.

"Just checking," she smiled.

They spent the next week inseparable. She was neglecting her homework to spend extra time with him. Still, no one really suspected anything. They assumed it was just because of the break. She was also finishing up their finances and setting aside money for the rent. It was Sunday night and they were packing up their trunks when Sara stumbled into their room, her arms full. She dropped everything onto George's bed.

"What's all this now?" Fred asked, taking a seat on his own.

"This," she said, holding up a bag, "is the rent money. Use it on nothing else, lest you be kicked out of your building. This is enough for four months after your first free one. This," she held up another one, "is for what your loan does not pay for, and to start paying it back. And this," she held up a third bag, "is for food. _Don't _waste it. This," she held up the final bag, "is the slight bit of extra that you have, for whatever needs might come up. If you don't need it, put it in the loan bag."

"What are we going to do without you?" Fred asked.

"Hopefully, you last the first month," she laughed.

"So little faith in us," George said, pulling her against him.

She laid her head on his chest and felt the tears welling up in her eyes again. She'd done such a good job holding them in, but it was getting harder now. She wouldn't see them for at least two months. She hadn't gone more than a few days without seeing them since she'd gone to Grimmauld Place. These boys were her life at Hogwarts.

"It's going to be so b-boring here without you!" she burst into tears.

"Hey, hey!" Fred exclaimed, running over and patting her back.

"We'll write you, all the time," George vowed, running his fingers through her hair.

"Yeah, like Umbridge will let _your_ letters through after tomorrow," she laughed through her tears.

"We'll write them in code. Like, you need to read the first letter of every word to get the message," George suggested.

"And they'll be from raccoon and monkey. If Umbridge reads them, she'll have no idea, but you will," Fred chuckled.

"Raccoon and monkey… They're just perfect," Sara laughed.

Fred stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

"Trapped," Fred and George said at the same time.

She laughed, a real laugh, through her tears. Because they didn't know it, but right here was where she always wanted to be.

Sara woke up the next day feeling a mingled sense of excitement and dread—it was highly unpleasant. Today was the last day. It was like losing a part of herself. But they were counting on her, and she would never let down. She got up and showered, trying to convince herself it was just a normal day. However, when she saw the bracelet George had given her for Christmas sitting on her dresser, she burst into tears.

She was completely collected when she approached the Gryffindor table for breakfast, taking her usual seat between Fred and George.

"Before dinner then?" she asked casually.

"Yeah, this will really get her too," Fred laughed.

"Not going to tell me, then?" she said, taking some bacon.

"It's probably better if you don't know," George said.

"Can you do this?" Fred asked seriously.

"You think I'd pass up a chance to give her back exactly what she's given us?" Sara smirked.

She could barely contain herself through Potions and Transfiguration that morning. She sought out Professor Vector at lunch and told her that she wouldn't be able to make it to class that day. Miraculously, she asked no questions and told Sara that she wasn't worried, winked, and returned to her lunch. It was as if she knew something was going to happen—but no, that was impossible. She struggled through Ancient Runes and a particularly boring Charms lesson. Finally, when Professor Flitwick released them, she ran back to Gryffindor Tower and up to the boys' room. Their beds were neatly made, their trunks packed up at the ends of their beds—just as she'd asked. Lee's belongings were the only things left out of place. Sara sat down on George's bed and took a deep breath. The room smelled of gunpowder and the distinctive spell she recognized as belonging to them. She would miss that smell. She realized she was crying again, but she didn't try to stop the tears. This was not the end. That was how she kept herself going with the plan. She swiped the tears from her eyes, shook her head, and pointed her wand at their trunks. She muttered _"Levitum Masstum."_ The trunks did not change in their appearance, but she knew it had worked. When she leaned down and lifted one up, it felt lighter than her book bag. She pointed at them again and said _"Locomotor Trunks."_ They lifted off the ground and followed her down the stairs and out of the common room. They followed her all the way to the top of the marble staircase that led into the entrance hall. She lowered her wand and they fell to the floor lightly. She took a seat on top of them and waited. The large clock struck five, and the hall was soon filled with students heading down to dinner. Then, she heard it.

"Get them, get them!" Umbridge's voice screeched.

The twins appeared at the bottom of the stairs and were quickly surrounded by the Inquisitorial Squad. Umbridge, apparently completely oblivious to Sara's presence, passed her by and hobbled down the stairs. Filch was right at her heels. She muttered something to him, and he raced back up and disappeared around the corner. The throng of students was growing more numerous, crowding around the twins expectantly. However, they looked calmer than ever, rather confident for two people who'd just been cornered. Filch returned a few moments later, clutching something tightly, and with a look of mirth on his face that disgustingly distorted his features.

"So," Umbridge jeered in triumph. "So… you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"

"Pretty amusing, yeah," Fred laughed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You two are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school," she said, pointing down at the twins with one of her stubby fingers.

"You know what?" Fred said, turning to his twin. "I don't think we are. George, I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," George agreed.

"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" Fred asked.

"Definitely."

They raised their wands up and together shouted, _"Accio Brooms!"_ There was a loud crash from far away, and their broomsticks suddenly zoomed into their outstretched hands. One of them still had its chains. Sara stood up and took a trunk in each hand.

"We won't be seeing you," Fred jeered as he mounted his broomstick.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," quipped George, doing the same.

"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley—Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Our new premises!" Fred shouted.

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," George added, nodding at Umbridge.

"STOP THEM!" she shrieked, tottering down the stairs.

They kicked off from the ground and soared up the staircase. Fred grabbed his trunk from Sara and planted a swift kiss on her cheek, but when George took his he kissed her full on the mouth. Sara waved her wand and the oak front doors opened. The twins soared into the air, amidst the applause and cheers of the Hogwarts students.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves!" Fred shouted.

The poltergeist pulled off his hat and raised his hand to his head in a salute to the twins. Taking a bow on their broomsticks, they sailed off out the doors. Sara watched as the two boys she cared about most in the world left to start their own life, a life she desperately hoped she could be a part of.


	30. Mom

Suffice it to say, life was boring for Sara without the twins. She went to class, did her homework, made her Prefect rounds, and helped out more in the hospital wing. When she wasn't busy, she sat around the common room thinking about George—what the two of them would be doing right now, how the shop was going, did he miss her. Katie was her only source of entertainment (aside from watching the fifth-years attempt to cope with the upcoming O.W.L.s).

There was a short bust of excitement when Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup after pummeling Ravenclaw. Without the twins, Sara and Lee were responsible for procuring the food from the elves (who were more than happy to oblige). A night filled with delicious food and a few fireworks that Sara had saved from Fred and George left her feeling a bit happier.

For the next few weeks, the fifth years were so busy getting ready for their O.W.L.s that it was nearly impossible to get into the library. Sara had taken to a chair in the common room, where she sat every night and did her homework. Every so often, she'd come across a note Fred and George had scribbled in the corner of a page (_"try this on McLaggen, it would shut him up for a while" _and _"Slinkhard probably never got any action, that's why he took the time to write this fucking book"_), and she couldn't help but laugh to herself.

Sara was down at breakfast the final day of O.W.L.s when she first heard the news. Apparently, Umbridge and a few aurors had gone out to get Hagrid the night before when Professor McGonagall came out to defend him. She had been stunned from four wands, but Hagrid had escaped with Fang. Professor McGonagall had been sent to St. Mungos, and there was no word on where Hagrid was. Sara felt another flare of rage surge inside of her as Umbridge passed the Gryffindor table, looking very full of herself. She simply couldn't get away with this. There was no way.

That night, Sara put her bag back in her room before heading down to dinner. She was on the landing above the second floor when something caught her eye. Hermione and Harry were walking a few paces ahead of Umbridge, who had her wand pointed at Hermione's back. They had just come from the corridor leading to Umbridge's office, and they were heading toward the entrance hall. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she wandered down the second floor corridor, trying not to let her footsteps echo off of the stone walls. There were voices up ahead. The door to Umbridge's office was cracked open, and Sara peeked inside. Through the crack, she could see Draco leaning against the wall, his smirk perhaps wider than she'd ever seen. He was fiddling with what looked like a wand, though she knew it wasn't his.

"So," he drawled, looking at someone Sara couldn't see, "looks like Potter's going to be expelled. What do you think, will the mudblood Granger get sent off as well?"

"Probably not, she's to perfect," Warrington's gruff voice chimed in.

"Well, what do you think, Weasel King, are you and your sister going to follow in the path of your washed out brothers?" Draco sneered.

Sara instinctively reached into her robes and pulled out her wand.

"Shut your damn mouth, Malfoy," Ron growled from just beside the door.

"Struck a nerve, have I?" he asked. "Not like your family's track record is a whole lot better than that anyway. Your mother couldn't close her legs for more than a second to—"

Sara threw the door open and sent a Stunning spell straight at his chest. In the same instant, another spell hit him square in the face and he went down. Sara turned and sent an Impediment Jinx at the nearest target, which happened to be the sixth-year holding Luna. In a flurry of spells and fists, the members of the Inquisitorial squad went down one by one. Though Ron, Ginny, and Neville had suffered a few minor injuries, they were all okay.

"How did you know we were here?" Ginny asked, kicking her previous captor in the side for good measure.

"I saw Harry and Hermione leading Umbridge away. What happened?" she asked, helping Neville to his feet.

"They had to distract her. Harry was trying to get ahold of Sirius through the fire, and she caught us," Ron explained, reclaiming the wand from Draco. "He had… A vision. He thinks Voldemort is trying to kill Sirius."

"Should we go figure out where they went?" she asked, noticing Crabbe stirring and hitting him with another Stunning spell.

"Yeah, lets go," Ginny said, leading them out of Umbridge's office.

Most people were at dinner, so the halls were relatively empty. They headed down the marble staircase without encountering a single person. The oak front doors were wide open. With a knowing glance, all of them traipsed outside and stood in front of the school, looking out over the grounds. It was getting dark, but the sun still peeked over the tops of the trees of the forest.

"Where do you think they could have gone?" Neville asked.

"Hermione said that they were taking Umbridge to see the weapon that Dumbledore told us to make. Where would they go out here?" Ron asked, scanning the grounds for any trace of them.

"I think I know…" Sara said hesitantly.

"Where?" Ginny and Ron asked at the same time.

She lifted her hand and pointed toward the forest, where a small patch of trees had started to rattle.

"In the forest?" Neville asked a bit nervously.

"Come on!" Ron called, taking off at a run.

Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Sara followed him at a quick clip. They entered the forest and were immediately slowed down by the brambles and branches strewn across the ground. The light began to grow dimmer. Sara took out her wand and muttered _"Lumos,"_ though trying to keep quiet. She'd never been in the forest before, but she assumed it was not a place to get caught off guard.

"Well, we can't do anything without wands," Hermione's voice was very faint up ahead. "Anyway, Harry, how exactly were you planning on getting all the way to London?"

"Yeah, we were just wondering that," Ron said, stepping into a small clearing, the others right behind him.

Harry and Hermione looked a bit rumpled, and they were covered in blood that (thankfully) wasn't theirs, but they were alright. They looked shocked to see the five of them there, but relieved all the same.

"So," said Ron, handing Harry back his wand, "had any ideas?"

"How did you get away?" asked Harry.

"Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville brought off a really nice little Impediment Jinx," Ron shrugged, also returning Hermione's wand to her. "Sara showed up and Stunned Malfoy, and Ginny hit him with a Bat-Bogey Hex. What've you done with Umbridge?"

"She got carried away," said Harry. "By a herd of centaurs."

"And they left you behind?" Ginny marveled.

"No, they got chased off by Grawp," Harry said.

"Who's Grawp?" Luna asked with interest.

"Hagrid's little brother," Ron said, waving her off. "Anyway, never mind that now. Harry, what did you find out in the fire? Has You-Know-Who got Sirius or—"

"Yes," Harry said promptly, "and I'm sure Sirius is still alive, but I can't see how we're going to get there to help him."

"Well, we'll have to fly, won't we?" Luna said almost matter-of-factly.

"Okay, first of all, 'we' aren't doing anything if you're including yourself in that," Harry said angrily, "and second of all, Ron's the only one with a broomstick that isn't being guarded by a security troll, so—"

"I've got a broom!" Ginny chimed in.

"Yeah, but you're not coming," Ron retorted.

"Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!" Ginny said, her hands set on her hips.

"You're too—" Harry tried.

"I'm three years older than you were when you fought You-Know-Who over the Sorcerer's Stone," she pointed out.

"We were all in the D.A. together," Neville added. "It was all supposed to be about fighting You-Know-Who, wasn't it? And this it the first chance we've had to do something real—or was that all just a game or something?"

""No—of course it wasn't—" he tried again.

"Harry, we're doing this together," Sara said pointedly.

"We want to help," Neville added.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway, because we still don't know how to get there—"

"I thought we'd settled that!" Luna exclaimed. "We're flying!"

"Look," Ron said through gritted teeth, "you might be able to fly without a broomstick but the rest of us can't sprout sings whenever we—"

"There are other ways of flying than with broomsticks," Luna pointed out.

She pointed over Harry's shoulder, and he whipped around to stare between the thicket of trees. Sara, however, could see nothing.

"Is it those maddening horse things?" Ron asked. "Those ones that you can't see unless you've watched someone snuff it?"

"Yeah," said Harry reaching out and patting what Sara could only assume was one of the thestrals.

"How many?"

"Just two."

"Well, we need three," said Hermione determinedly.

"Four, Hermione," Ginny scowled.

"Excuse you," Sara interrupted, "but I see seven people here."

"Don't be stupid, we can't all go!" Harry snapped. "Look, you—"

"Do _not_ call me stupid, Harry Potter," Sara snapped right back. "Sirius isn't just your godfather. If you'll remember correctly, he was my mother's cousin too. You're not the only one with a stake in this. Plus, Neville's right. What was the point of Dumbledore's Army if not to fight Voldemort?"

"Okay, fine, it's your choice," he said, looking away a little ashamed. "But unless we can find some more thestrals, you're not going to be able to—"

"Oh, more of them will come," Ginny said confidently.

"What makes you say that?" Harry asked.

"Because in case you hadn't noticed, you and Hermione are both covered in blood, and we know Hagrid lures thestrals with raw meat, so that's probably why these two turned up in the first place."

Sara was amazed to see Harry leap up onto the back of an invisible thestral—it was as if he was sitting in midair. Luna took Sara's and Ginny's hands and led them toward the thestrals. She set Sara's hands on one of them and led Ginny to another. Sara ran her hands over its back.

"I'm just glad I can't see you," she mumbled, feeling the mane under her fingers.

She felt the thestral lower itself toward the ground, and she did her best to climb onto its back gracefully. It felt so strange to be sitting on something solid, but to look down and see nothing there. She wound her fingers through its mane and hooked her feet into what she assumed were the wing joints.

"We all ready then?" Harry asked.

They all nodded dutifully, and Harry muttered something to his thestral. Sara's (presumably, as she couldn't really see it) beat its wings and took off from the ground. Sara's fingers wound tighter in the mane. They were ascending rapidly, breaking through the tops of the trees and sailing over the castle. They soared over Hogsmeade and continued on over winding roads and strings of houses. Sara knew she should be scared, but it was more fascinating than anything. It was as if she was flying through the air of her own accord. Night fell, and the lights from individual houses could be seen below.

"This is amazing," she murmured to herself.

Then, it felt like she was heading straight at the ground. Sara heard Hermione scream behind her, but she herself found it exhilarating. Gradually, the lights below grew larger, and the thestral evened out. It landed lithely in an alleyway, and Sara slipped gently off of its side. The others landed around her.

"Thank you," she whispered, patting the thestral gingerly.

She could have sworn she heard it make some sort of whinny as she turned to face Harry.

"Where do we go from here?" Luna asked innocently.

"Over here," he said, gesturing toward a telephone box.

One by one, they squashed themselves inside. Harry closed the door behind them. Ron turned the receiver dial six two four four two at Harry's command, and a female voice spoke.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Sara Roth, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood… We're here to save someone, unless your ministry can do it first!"

"Thank you," the female voice said. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to your clothing."

Sara took her badge from Hermione and pinned it to the front of her shirt. The floor gave a violent shudder and began to move down below the sidewalk. When they were finally bathed in light once again, the door to the telephone box opened and they were standing in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

Sara had been here a few times in her life. Her father had taken her to work with him, and his Ministry Christmas parties had always been held here. They toppled out and sprinted down the hall past the fountain of the witch, wizard, centaur, goblin, and house-elf. There was no security guard at the desk, so they continued on past to the lifts. It opened its doors with a great clanging, and they shuffled inside. Harry pushed the floor nine button, and the lift clanged its way down. When it stopped, the female voice once again spoke: "Department of Mysteries." They followed Harry down a corridor leading to a plain black door. He pulled the door open and stepped inside.

It was a large circular room with doors similar to the one they'd just come through. The torches on the walls were burning blue and cast the room in an eerie glow. Neville closed the door under Harry's orders, and the walls began to move. When they stopped, they couldn't tell their original door from any of the others.

"We should try a few doors," Harry said, approaching one of them. "I'll know the right way when I see it. C'mon."

He pushed open the door and they found themselves in what looked like a small classroom. There were a few desks, and at the center stood what looked like a large fish tank. There were wrinkly white things moving almost lazily in the greenish murk.

"What're those things?" Ron whispered.

"Dunno," Harry said.

Sara and Hermione moved closer, both fairly certain they knew what was inside.

"They're brains," they both said.

"_Brains?_" Harry repeated.

"Yes," Hermione said. "I wonder what they're doing with them?"

"Let's get out of here," Harry said nervously. "This isn't right, we need to try another door—"

"There are doors here, too," Ron pointed out.

Sure enough, along the walls there were about as many doors as there were in the circular room. Where could they possibly lead?

"In my dream," Harry said, "I went through that dark room into the second one. I think we should go back and try from there."

They returned back to the circular room. Hermione marked the door that led to the brain room with her wand before it was shut, and sure enough the walls began to spin again. Harry entered another door, and the others followed him. This room looked like an ancient coliseum, with stone benches that wrapped around the room, and at the center was an old stone archway. Harry stumbled down the benches and examined the archway tentatively. He called out to Sirius, but no one answered. Only after reminding him that they were looking for Sirius did Hermione manage to get Harry back to the circular room. They marked the door again and chose another one, which turned out to be locked. Neither _"Alohomora"_ nor Sirius's magic knife worked to unlock it, so they moved on to the next door.

"This is it!" Harry exclaimed.

They were in a room with clocks on every single available surface of wall. Along the walls were also a few desks that made the walkway much smaller. At the end of the room on one of the desks was a large bell jar that transformed an egg into a small hummingbird and back into an egg.

"This is it." Harry said, stopping at the door just behind the jar. "It's through here."

He pushed opened the door, and they all drew their wands. This room was much larger than any of the others. It was full of shelves that reached to the ceiling. Each shelf contained different sized crystal balls, some covered in dust, others shimmering with white smoke. They followed Harry down the aisles, stopping once they'd reached row ninety-seven.

"He should be near here," Harry whispered. "Anywhere here… really close…"

"Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Somewhere about… here…" he ignored her. "He might be… Or maybe…"

"Harry!" Hermione said louder.

"What?" he growled.

"I… I don't think Sirius is here."

Harry ran frantically up and down the aisle, but the others couldn't bear to follow him. Instead, they all began looking at the crystal balls. They were all glowing faintly in the dim light of the lamps. There were names—some of which Sara actually recognized.

"Harry?" Ron called.

"What?" he snapped back.

"Have you seen this?"

"What?" Harry asked, striding back toward them eagerly.

"It's—it's got your name on it," Ron said tentatively.

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it," Hermione warned.

"Why not?" he retorted. "It's something to do with me, isn't it?"

"Don't, Harry," Neville tried.

"It's got my name on it."

Harry reached up and took the glass orb in his hand. He brushed it free of the dust that coated it. They all closed in around him, trying to get a good look at it.

"Very good, Potter," a voice behind them suddenly spoke. "Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

All around them, black shapes began to come into view, pointing their wands at the horror-stricken kids. Lucius Malfoy stood with his hand outstretched toward Harry.

"Where's Sirius?" Harry asked.

The dark shapes laughed, and one of them shouted. "The Dark Lord always knows!"

"Always," Malfoy repeated with a smirk. "Now, give me the prophecy, Potter."

"I want to know where Sirius is. You've got him. He's here. I know he is."

"It's time you learned the different between life and dreams, Potter," Malfoy drawled over the taunting shrieks of the female Death Eater. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."

"Go on then." Harry threatened.

All six of them raised their wands to chest height, pointed directly at the Death Eaters.

"Hand over the prophecy," Malfoy repeated, "and no one need get hurt."

"Yeah right!" Harry laughed. "I give you this—prophecy, is it? And you'll let us skip off home, will you?

The female Death Eater tried to summon the prophecy, but Harry was ready. Harry continued to stall them while a series of questions, further enraging the woman. Ginny's hand made contact with Sara's arm, and she mouthed "smash shelves" silently. Sara relayed the message to Neville on her other side, and they waited for Harry.

"NOW!" he shouted.

Sara and the other six lifted their wands toward the shelves and shouted _"REDUCTO!"_ The crystal balls on the shelves shattered and fell to the floor. The Death Eaters were temporarily distracted, and Sara and the others took this opportunity to run. Sara sprinted past Harry and Hermione, just behind Ron, Luna, and Ginny. They ran through the shower of glass and booked back to the glittering room with the bell jar. They continued back into the circular room and through another door off to the side. It wasn't until Sara had reached the circular stone room that she realized she was alone. Ginny, Ron, and Luna must have gone a different way. The room was eerily empty. Sara looked around for a place to hide, but found nothing.

Suddenly, Sara felt arms close around her, pinning her own arms to her body. She screamed, trying to get someone's attention, but she had the suspicion that no one could hear her.

"Get off of me!" she shouted.

"I don't think so."

She struggled against the Death Eater's grip, but it was to no avail. His hold was strong. Her wand was pinned to her side, pointed at her thigh. Sara felt the Death Eater lean toward her and sniff her neck.

"Get off me," she growled, fighting him once again.

"And why would I do that?" his raspy voice asked in her ear.

"Fuck you," she spat.

"Such a pretty little thing," he growled. "And feisty too. Just like your mother."

Sara stopped struggling. She turned her head to face the Death Eater for the first time. His dark hair hung lank about his face, and his beard was dark and scraggly. His eyes looked sunken, but alive with something sinister. His crooked smirk was directed down at her. He knew her mother, there was no denying that. She locked eyes with him, and suddenly she was no longer in her own body. She was at Hogwarts, outside near the lake. There were two people on the bank near the water, simply holding hands and looking at one another. Sara gasped and clasped a hand over her mouth. The man facing her was her father. He was considerably younger (probably around Sara's age), and life had not yet taken its course on him. He was well-built and tall, his sand-colored hair much longer than she ever remembered it. She gingerly approached the couple, knowing what she would find when she stood next to the younger Liam. She cried out and fell to the ground when she saw the woman standing before him.

Her mother. She was radiantly beautiful, and she did look extraordinarily like Sara. Her blond curls were slightly tamer, and she was a few inches taller, but there was no mistaking the two. The emerald eyes and heart-shaped face were nearly a mirror image. Suddenly, Liam pulled the woman toward him and kissed her full on the mouth, literally sweeping her off of her feet. They were in love.

But then, Sara noticed something else. Someone was hiding behind one of the trees up the hill. She swept across the ground to find the Death Eater, though considerably younger, spying on her mother and father. He looked murderous.

Suddenly, Sara felt herself being pulled forward, literally lurching through time. Her feet met solid ground inside a quaint looking house. Everything looked so bright and happy. The realization that this was her childhood home hit her hard. On the mantle, there was a picture of her father and mother holding a baby girl—Sara herself. They looked so happy. There were no lines marring her father's young face, and her mother's smile was radiant. Even Sara was giggling.

A door behind her opened, and Sara turned to see her mother enter the room, her arms laden with groceries. Sara followed her into the kitchen, unable to stay away. She moved like she was dancing, gliding across the floor. She had a few inches on Sara, and her curves were slightly less defined. She was putting the dishes away when someone knocked on the back door.

"Come in," her mother called in a lyrical voice.

The back door opened, and in stepped the Death Eater, though he looked a bit older. His dark hair had grown longer, but his eyes were alive with that evil gleam. Sara's mother glanced up and sighed.

"Rodolphus, what's wrong?" she asked, putting away a few cans with a sweep of her wand.

"Come on, Emmeline, can't I just come by for a visit?" he asked in a cool baritone.

"No. Where's Bella?" Emmeline asked.

"Does it matter?" he replied, slinking around the table.

"You know, I think you should go," she said, turning to put a box of cereal away.

In an instant, Rodolphus was behind Emmeline, pinning her between himself and the counter. The cereal fell from her hands and landed with a clatter on the floor.

"I don't think I want to go," he growled, running his nose up her neck.

"Rodolphus," Emmeline tried to sound stern, but her voice was shaking.

He turned her around and slammed her down onto the counter, smashing his lips against hers. She pushed against him, hit him, bit him, but nothing helped. Sara screamed and tried to reach out to stop him, but her hand passed right through him. And so, she stood there transfixed, horrified. She knew what was going to happen, but she could do nothing to stop it. Rodolphus reached over Emmeline's head and grabbed a knife from the block. He used it to cut her shirt and bra open. He slipped his hand inside her skirt, and she began to cry.

Sara watched this man rape her mother. He pounded into her as she sobbed, pleading for him to stop, calling out to her husband who would not come. He slit her skin open with the knife and watched the blood trickle down her skin. He came inside of her, but continued to slash at her skin. Blood dripped from her body onto the hardwood floor. Her cries were quieter now, and she had stopped fighting him.

"Lost your spunk, Emmeline?" he growled, licking up a line of blood. "Pity, I like you better that way."

"R-Rodolphus," she shuddered, her voice barely audible. "Why?"

"Why?" he repeated, then laughed harshly. "Why, Emmeline? Because you were supposed to be mine. I married Bellatrix because I had to, but you married that piece of shit of your own free will. If I can't have you, then I'll make sure no one will."

Sara let out a low cry as Rodolphus raised the knife over his head and sliced down her body. Blood poured from her mother, and her eyes lost the life they held. She was dead. Rodolphus looked down at her for a moment, a tinge of regret in his eyes. Then he dropped the knife and walked out the door. He raised his want to the sky, and a skull and serpent were sent up into the air, hovering over the house. He Disapparated with a crack, and the world around Sara disappeared.

When she felt herself return to the stone room, the scene had changed dramatically. There were Death Eaters all around her. Harry was on the ground in the center of the room. Neville was on the floor near him, screaming in pain.

"That was just a taste!" she heard the female Death Eater scream at Neville.

Harry held out his hand, and Malfoy reached out for it. Suddenly, to her left, two doors burst open and Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley all burst into the stone room.

_"STUPEFY!"_ Lupin shouted.

Rodolphus was thrown from Sara's body, and she immediately fell to her knees.

"Are you alright?" he asked, running up to her.

She shook her head furiously.

"Did he hurt you?"

"He… He…" she tried.

"Come on."

He pulled Sara to her feet and pulled her along the stone floor. He was completely unaware of the Death Eater approaching his right side, but Sara saw. Even in her daze, she raised her wand and mumbled, _"Incarcerous!"_ The Death Eater was bound in ropes and fell to the ground, struggling against his bindings.

"Nice one," he said, pulling her along.

There were Death Eaters and Order members dueling all around the giant stone room. Harry was supporting Neville, who couldn't control the movement of his legs. Then, Neville pointed toward the door at the top of the stone room.

"DUBBLEDORE!" he shouted.

Standing in the doorframe of the brain room was a furious Dumbledore. He began to pull in the Death Eaters one by one. Only Sirius and the female Death Eater were still dueling.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" Sirius yelled.

Her jet of green light hit him square in the chest, and the light suddenly faded from his eyes. He fell into the stone archway and disappeared behind the tattered veil. The woman was screaming triumphantly, but Harry's anguished cries were louder.

"SIRIUS!" he yelled. "SIRIUS!"

"Go!" Sara shouted, pushing her own godfather toward him.

Lupin sped down the benches, grabbing Harry just before he reached the curtain. Sara leaned against the stone wall behind her, gripping it for support. She couldn't be selfish now.

"Are you alright?"

Sara looked over to see Moody popping his magical eye back into place. He looked like he'd have a few more scars to show for this.

"I… I… No," she replied tentatively.

She looked down into the thicket of Death Eaters that Dumbledore had already rounded up. Rodolphus was among them, and he staring right at her. It sent a chill through her body.

"Come on," Moody said gruffly.

He hobbled out the door leading to the brain room, but Sara did not follow. She was finding it impossible to move her feet. Instead, she sank into a seated position on the floor. Then suddenly Harry was stumbling over the steps and sprinting out the door. Lupin was shouting after him, but did not follow. He climbed slowly up the stone benches and dropped next to Sara.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking over at him.

He shook his head, his jaw set resolutely. He was doing his best to keep the tears at bay. Sara looked down at the Death Eaters again, and Rodolphus was still staring at her. She shuddered and stood up, not wanting to be subjected to his goggling anymore. She and Lupin returned through the brain room and were back in the circular room when one of the doors opened and Liam stepped inside.

"DADDY!" Sara cried.

She was in her father's arms in seconds, her tears falling almost uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around her, and she felt a little bit safer in his embrace.

"Darlin', what's wrong?" he asked.

"D-daddy," she stammered through her tears. "Daddy… I s-saw who k-k-killed mom."

Her father stiffened immediately. His grip around her tightened, as if he could protect her.

"Who was it?" he asked darkly.

"R-Rodolphus Lestrange."

He was completely still. Lupin, who had been sitting on the floor next to them, was now standing, staring at them wide-eyed.

"How do you know?" Liam asked.

"I… I saw into his memories…" she said quietly.

"Come on."

The Atrium had changed in the time they'd been downstairs. The gold statue had been completely disassembled. Some gold pieces had been strewn about the room, as if blasted apart. Only the house elf remained intact. The floor was flooded with water from the fountain. A few fireplaces had been blasted away, and the information desk had been smashed. A few Ministry officials stood around in their nightclothes. The other Order members were also there, as were Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna. Lupin appeared in the Atrium behind them supporting an uneasy Neville.

"Is everyone alive?" Sara asked Luna (who seemed to be the only one relatively unharmed).

"Yes, we're all okay. Ron and Hermione are out, but they're still with us."

"Has Dumbledore given any instructions?" Lupin asked Tonks.

"He wants them all taken back to Hogwarts immediately," she replied.

"Where's Harry?" Sara asked suddenly, noticing his absence.

"He's already been sent back, Dumbledore's talking with Fudge now and then he's going to see Harry," Kingsley said.

"Well, come on, we'll get you all back," Lupin said dutifully, hoisting Neville's arm better over his shoulder. "I don't think Minerva will mind us using her fireplace."

"Is Professor McGonagall alright?" Sara asked quietly as they drew up to one of the intact fireplaces.

"Yes, she'll be out in no time," Kingsley said as he lifted Hermione into his arms.

Two by two, they went through the fire back to Hogwarts. Sara looked out the window and saw the sun peeking over the top of the Forbidden Forest. It was morning now. Kingsley, Tonks, and Lupin led (or carried, in some cases) Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna to the Hospital Wing, but Liam waited until they had gone. He closed McGonagall's door and conjured two armchairs for them.

"Can you… Can you tell me what happened?" her father asked tentatively.

Through more tears, Sara managed to tell her father how Rodolphus had eyes for Emmeline while they were still in school, how he had married Bellatrix because it had been required of him, and how he'd come to the house that day to take her from Liam. She stumbled over the gruesome details, but her father seemed to understand. His eyes were vacant, and he was gripping the arm of the chair so tightly that he split one of the seams.

"I'm sorry, daddy," she said through her tears.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," he said sternly. "You didn't do this… I'm sorry you had to be the one to see it."

"She was beautiful," Sara remarked.

"Just like you."

Sara felt a new surge of tears come on, and her father was there with his arms around her in an instant. She cried into his shoulder, and she felt his own tears hit her cheeks. It was impossible to say how long they stood there, but when they finally left the office the sun had risen. They passed Mrs. Norris, who merely rubbed herself against Sara's legs and purred.

"Where are we going?" Sara asked, realizing that they weren't heading for Gryffindor Tower.

"The Hospital Wing. You've been through a lot, I want you to get a good rest," Liam replied.

They entered to find Madam Pomfrey bustling about in her dressing gown almost maniacally. Ginny and Luna were already asleep, Hermione and Ron were propped up in beds still unconscious, and Neville's face was covered in some strange grey goop.

"Miss Roth, are you injured as well?" she asked.

"No, she just needs a Sleeping Draught," Liam explained.

"Yes, I can only imagine," she tutted. "Take that bed next to Miss Lovegood, I'll be right there."

Sara slipped her shoes off and climbed under the blanket. Her father pushed her hair away from her forehead and kissed her softly.

"I love you, daddy," she whispered.

"I love you too, darlin'," he said.

Madam Pomfrey bustled over and tipped the thick liquid down Sara's throat. She had barely managed to say "Goodnight" to Liam before slipping into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

Sara and Luna were released from the Hospital Wing late the next morning. The two of them sat together at every meal, trying pointedly to ignore the stares that were being directed toward them. On Sunday morning, Sara got a large package from Fred and George. It contained a few fireworks, a smattering of chocolate, and a note from each of them.

_Sara,  
><em>_Hope you're doing alright. Cause a little trouble in our honor (that's what the fireworks are for) and eat your feelings away (the chocolates). We'll be seeing you soon, I'm sure.  
><em>_Love,  
><em>_Fred_

…

_Sara,  
><em>_Your dad wrote us about what happened. I'm sorry. I know I can't really say anything to make it better for you. Just know that I love you, and that I'm here if you ever need me. Fred and I miss you. We're going to try and get you out here this summer. I can't go this long without seeing you. Like Fred said, cause some trouble and enjoy some chocolates on us.  
><em>_I love you,  
><em>_George_

The remainder of the year passed in a blur of awkward mealtimes, exams, and unrestful nights for Sara. Before she knew it, she'd packed up her trunk and boarded up the Hogwarts Express. She took a compartment with Katie, Angelina, Alicia, and Lee, who entertained themselves with a few things Fred and George had left behind.

"They really are brilliant," Alicia remarked, watching a small flock of birds burst from one of the smaller fireworks.

"They'd be nothing without you though," Angelina leaned over and elbowed Sara.

"No, they'd be alright. They'd be in the poorhouse, for sure, but they'd still have their inventions," she smirked.

The rest of the train ride was filled with Exploding Snap, excessive eating, and laughter—something Sara desperately needed. Finally, they pulled in to King's Cross Station, gathered up their trunks, and trudged off onto the platform. When Sara spotted the red hair, she ran toward it, throwing herself into George's arms.

"Hey," he laughed.

"Hey."

They kissed briefly, not wanting to attract too much attention, before he set her back down on the ground.

"Your dad's here," he said, pointing through the crowd toward her father. "But I meant what I said. I won't go this whole summer without seeing you."

"You said that last year too," Sara laughed.

"I'm serious," he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"I know you are. I love you," she said, gathering up her trunk.

"I love you too."

And with one last glance over her shoulder, she disappeared into the crowd, wondering how long she would have to go before she saw him again.


	31. Home

Sara sat bolt upright in her bed. She was covered in a cold sweat, and she realized that she had been shouting in her sleep. She got out of bed and stumbled downstairs, flipping on the television just to hear the noise. She turned the volume up and went into the kitchen to make herself a snack. She didn't have to be worried about waking her father up; he wasn't home. When the prophecies were destroyed in the Department of Mysteries, her father had been called, as had a number of other Ministry officials. What the Ministry believed he could do about millions of shattered prophecies was beyond her. They were also working on acquainting themselves with the new Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour.

Sara sat in front of the TV with her sandwich, not really watching the late-night program. It was more for the sake of feeling less alone.

This was the third night in a row she'd dreamed of her mother's death—the third night in a row she'd woken up shouting. It was so vivid, she often forgot that it had happened fifteen years ago. She stared at the television until the sun peeked into the window, then went upstairs and showered.

When she came back downstairs, she was wondering just how she would be spending her day when there came a tapping at the kitchen window. She immediately pulled her wand out and pointed it toward the window. She knew she couldn't legally use magic yet, but it still needed to be an option. She edged her way toward the window and pulled back the curtain. A barn owl hovered there, a letter in his beak. She put her wand back in her pocket and opened the window. The owl fluttered in and landed on the table.

"What have we here?" she asked, taking the letter from the owl.

She gave it one of Artemis's treats and watched it fly back out the open window. It had no return address, but she recognized the slightly messy handwriting instantly. She ripped open the envelope and read the letter from George.

_Dearest Sara,  
><em>_I miss you—the sound of your voice, your smile, the way you bite your lip when you concentrate too hard, that little chicken pox scar on your forehead, all of it. All of you. I'm sorry I haven't written in a few weeks. Fred and I have been working tirelessly on the shop. We've cleaned it up (it was a real mess, believe me) and have opened it up for business already._

_Which leads me to yet another proposition that Fred and I have for you. Harry's gold and your bookkeeping skills are perhaps the only two reasons that we are actually able to open the shop up. Naturally we'll need someone to continue helping us with our finances and maybe teaching us the ropes so we can try it for ourselves as well. After a few seconds of discussion, Fred and I decided you were our first choice._

_We are prepared to offer you compensation for your services. As our bookkeeper, you will be given lodgings here at Diagon Alley, food, and an allotted payment sum to be discussed should you accept our offer._

_If you feel this is a task that you are not up to, please feel free to decline our offer. We eagerly anticipate your response.  
><em>_All my love,  
><em>_George_

Unless she was very much mistaken, George was asking her to come and stay with him and Fred for the summer. She was positively elated—an entire summer with her two best friends, one of whom happened to be her boyfriend. He had conveniently stated he'd give her "lodgings here at Diagon Alley," but she was quite certain he meant with them at the shop. She would be turning seventeen in a few days and would be able to decide for herself, but she wanted her father to be on board as well. So, it was for this reason that she was downstairs brewing a pot of coffee when she heard her father in the shower. She fiddled with the letter, rereading twice while she waited. When her father's loud footsteps pounded down the stairs, she suddenly began to feel nervous.

"Darlin', what are yeh doin' up this early?" he asked with surprise as he came into the kitchen.

"It seems to be the only way to get ahold of you this summer," she said cheekily as she poured them each a cup of coffee.

"What do yeh need, love?" he queried, taking the cup from her and sitting down across from her at the table.

She passed over the letter without a word, and he took it from her and began to read. His eyes scanned the page—she noticed the twitch of his mouth as he read George's confession of missing her. He reached the bottom and simply stared at the page for a moment before looking up at his daughter.

"So?" she said, simply to break the silence.

"So," he repeated with a sigh. Another heavy silence. "Is this what you want?" he asked, staring into her eyes.

"I think it would be fun. I helped them out all last year, kept them out of debt—I'm sure neither of them considered this when they bailed," she mused.

"In three days, it'll be entirely yehr decision," he said.

"I know, but… But I want to know what you want as well. I care about what you think too," Sara interjected.

Her father's gaze softened as he stared at his daughter. For a moment, he saw a flash of her at four years old, standing in the doorway of his bedroom. He had been crying—it was his and Emmeline's anniversary, and the memory of her still brought him to tears. She tottered in and looked up at him with those emerald eyes so like her mother's and said, "Don't hide your tears, daddy. You can be sad." Even as a small child, she had wanted to know what he was thinking. He returned to staring at his nearly seventeen-year old daughter, the spitting image of his wife, and felt a pang in his chest.

"I don't want you to go."

The words had left his mouth before he'd realized he had said them. He assumed most teenagers at this point would yell, storm up to their rooms, and refuse to speak to their parents; but not Sara. She folded her hands on the table and looked calmly across it at her father.

"Tell me why," she ordered gently.

"Because…" he replied, searching for the words. Again, they began to slip out as Liam found himself unable to stop them. "Because yeh weren't supposed to grow up so fast. Yeh were supposed to be my little girl forever. And now yeh want to go live with George. And yeh'll graduate at the end of the year… Maybe I don' want to give yeh up. Maybe I don' want yeh to give yehr heart to someone else…"

As he spoke, he focused on a nick in their table. When he looked up, he saw tears swimming in her emerald eyes. He didn't like being the reason that she cried. He muttered an apology, but Sara shook her head and reached across the table to take hold of his hands.

"Please don't be sorry. Please… Daddy, you… I can't say I'm happy to grow up either, but it is happening. But… That doesn't mean that I'm not your little girl anymore. Daddy, I'll be your little girl for as long as I live. Falling in love with George doesn't change-"

"Love?" he interrupted, slightly taken aback.

"Daddy, I love George," she said simply, as if she was talking about the color of the sky. "But you need to know… Falling in love with George doesn't change the fact that you were the first man to hold my heart for me. And you'll always be the one to hold it. You're not giving it up to George; you're just trusting him with a part of it."

Liam now felt tears of his own swimming in his eyes. He took another moment to stare at his daughter, but he was no longer comparing her to her mother. She was entirely her own person—a grown-up young woman in love who knew how to take care of herself. She still looked at him with such adoration—the kind that most kids lost for their parents in their late adolescent years. He knew that, even if he told her that he didn't want her to go, that adoration would still sparkle every time she looked at him.

"I want yeh to wait till yehr birthday. I'll take yeh to yehr Apparition testing, spend the day with you. And George will need to come to the house so I can talk with him."

"Oh, daddy," Sara exclaimed.

He stood to take his cup to the sink, and she vaulted from her chair and around the table to capture him in a hug. Her smile spread over her face and shone in her eyes. He returned her embrace and noticed just how small she felt in his arms. She was more than a head shorter than him, and her arms barely met around his middle. She pulled back and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek (though he still had be bend down for her to reach).

"Yeh should get to cleaning that room o' yehrs. Might take a whole summer to get through all yehr junk anyway," he chided.

"Have a good day at work, daddy," she rolled her eyes.

He grabbed his briefcase and turned to look at her once more. She made a heart shape with her hands and held it up to her chest where her actual heart was. He felt the corners of his mouth pull up into a smile as he turned on the spot and disappeared with a crack.

Sara sat down with a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink. Artemis hooted in his cage, sensing he might soon be of service. She dipped the quill into the ink and wrote excitedly.

_Dear George,  
><em>_With some trepidation, I will agree to take the job as your shop's bookkeeper (this is a lie, as I have no trepidations and am ridiculously excited). When you say that you will provide me with "lodgings here at Diagon Alley," I am assuming that you mean at the shop with you and Fred (please correct me if I'm wrong). In three days, I turn seventeen and can come as early as that night._

_I talked to my father about it, and he came around to the idea of me living with you for the summer (again, correct me if I'm wrong). However, he wants you to come get me when the time comes for me to leave so that he can have a "talk" with you. He won't be working the day of my birthday if that works for you, otherwise we'll have to figure something else out._

_I'll be endlessly cleaning out my room by hand because I can't use magic for two days, but it's worth it. I am absurdly excited about this summer and can't wait to see you.  
><em>_I love you,  
><em>_Sara_

She rolled up the parchment and let Artemis out of his cage to attach it to his leg. She scratched under his chin and he gave a happy hoot.

"Try to get this to George as quickly as possible, and have a safe journey," she bade the owl.

He hooted once again, this time to indicate that he understood. Sara opened the door and allowed him to fly out, watching him in the sky until he was just a small speck. She returned into the house, grabbed a few garbage bags, and headed upstairs to her room. It was not so much messy as cluttered. She had collected a large amount of things over the last seventeen years that she had deemed too useful or sentimental to throw out. Every once in a while, she'd go through and get rid of a few things, but the room still resembled a museum of a long-lived life.

She started with her trunk, which had not been properly cleaned since the summer after her first year. Her clothes were already out of the trunk and sitting in her closet waiting to be sorted. Her robes and books were tossed on the bed to be repacked later. Hefting the trunk onto the end of the bed, she delved into the junk. Old, broken, ink-stained quills; tattered parchment containing homework, notes, and doodles; Gilderoy Lockhart's _Magical Me_, which had been flattened so badly that the pages stuck together; chocolate frog cards (and one rather smashed chocolate frog); various Weasley products that had either been used and returned to the trunk or forgotten about and squashed; a rook from Wizard Chess; various headbands and hair ties that had been stretched out by her mane of hair; old _Daily Prophet_ articles that she had once deemed important. All of it and more went straight into the trash without a second thought.

She set aside a small basket for the things that seemed unnecessary for school but sentimental enough to save from the rubbish heap. The small photo album that contained pictures of her mom, dad, their family and friends, and herself; any Weasley products that remained intact; nearly all of the gifts that Fred and George had ever given her (including the bracelet George got her from Egypt, which she found and promptly clasped on her wrist); a few pieces of George's old Quidditch uniform, which she stole after she told him how attractive she found him in it and after he'd been kicked off the team by Umbridge. She nearly filled the basket before, deciding the rest was trash, simply vacuuming up the remainder at the bottom of the trunk.

Then she turned to her closet. She immediately went for the clothes in the back, which were assuredly too small, throwing them into a new garbage bag to be donated. Then she went through piece by piece and decided if she would ever wear it again. By the time she'd made it to the front of the closet, she'd filled up three bags. The rest were tossed on the bed with her robes. She poked around her dresser as well, but found fewer things to give away; most everything from the drawers ended up on the bed as well.

She marveled for a moment at her book collection. Her father had built her a bookshelf that stretched from floor to ceiling on the wall next to her door. It was overflowing with books, all of which she had read. The shelves were packed tight, and stacks of books had grown on top of the neat rows of them, as well as on the floor surrounding the shelf. She'd bought nearly all of them used—another thing which she prided herself on. There were a variety of Muggle books—fiction stories, school textbooks, even a few medical journals—as well as a decent amount of books by wizard authors. She picked up one of the books and ran her fingers over its spine. With a content sigh, she turned to face the rest of the room. Just as she had turned on her heel, a loud crack reverberated through the room. Instead of turning and seeing her item-strewn room, a figure stood in her vision. She screamed out and lifted the book, prepared to strike.

"It's just me!"

She was so startled that she hadn't bothered to look at the face. Her "assailant" was considerably taller than her—she was about eye-level with his chest. She trailed her eyes up and met startled chocolate-brown eyes. The small relief she felt that she was not under attack was diluted by how startled she still was.

"George Fabian Weasley, you can't sneak UP on me like that!" she punctuated her sentence by hitting him in the arm with the book.

"Bloody hell, I just wanted to come see you!" he exclaimed, rubbing his arm.

"And you're entirely unable to approach the front door and ring the bell rather than scare the daylights out of me?" she asked, returning the book to the shelf behind her.

"I was so excited when I got your letter, you said you'd be cleaning your room and it was the only thing I thought of when I Disapparated. I'm sorry," he apologized sheepishly.

She immediately felt bad for yelling at him. They hadn't properly seen one another since he and Fred left Hogwarts at the beginning of May. She moved toward him and stood on her tiptoes to press her lips softly to his.

"You just surprised me is all. I've missed you," she muttered, her voice much softer now.

"I've missed you too," he said, a slight note of relief in his voice. "Wanna come live with me?"

"Sure," she replied with a smile, glad she hadn't misunderstood the meaning of his words.

"Do you want some help?" he asked, looking around the cluttered room and grinning.

"No, but I could use some company," she suggested, pointing to an armchair she had in the corner so he could sit. "Why are you smiling like that?" she added, noticing the grin on his face.

"This room is very… You," he said as he took a seat. "It just fits your personality."

"How do you reckon?" she asked as she began to fold the clothes that were forming a mountain on her bed.

"It's tough to explain," he said. "There's a lot going on, but it's somehow cohesive… Like organized chaos. Not that you're chaotic," he added, noticing the incredulous look she shot back at him. "It's just… It wouldn't be right if your room had a theme, just because you don't fit into a box. There are a lot of things someone might not expect to see if they're just meeting you. But as they get to know you, they learn all the different little characteristics that make you who you are, and then suddenly the weird little things in your room make sense."

"That was a long-winded and very sweet explanation," Sara said, throwing him a cute smile over her shoulder.

"So, uh… Have you thought about what you want to do after you graduate this year? Assuming you don't get another Umbridge and resort to abandoning your education, of course," George asked, watching her intently.

"I dunno… I could go to St. Mungos, Madam Pomfrey always told me she's got connections and she'd put in a good word for me. Or maybe something in the Ministry. I haven't thought too hard about it yet, maybe I should start," she mused, laying the roll of clothes she so neatly put together into her trunk.

"Oh," he replied simply.

He watched Sara pack for a while, mentally filing away more things that he noticed about her. She would hum quietly to herself, but it was never more than 10 seconds of a song, and she would hum the same 10 seconds every few minutes. She would tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and then only moments later untuck it. When she would deliberate whether or not she wanted to pack something in the trunk, she'd stare at it and bite her lip the same way she did when she was concentrating hard. When he noticed the gold and green bracelet around her wrist, he smiled.

"I can't believe you still have that," he said, pointing as he spoke.

Sara looked down at her arm and raised an eyebrow when she looked back at him.

"Why on earth wouldn't I still have it?" she asked.

"I dunno… It's just surprising. Maybe it shouldn't be," he shrugged.

"You gave it to me, George. Everything you've given me is special," she smiled warmly.

She sauntered over and dropped onto his lap, straddling his legs. Her fingers traced over his cheeks, his nose, his lips.

"What's wrong?" he asked, catching her wrists in his hands and holding them gingerly.

"How could you possibly know—"

"Because I know you, love," he smirked, kissing each wrist delicately.

"I see it happen every night now," she sighed, burying her face in the crook of his neck, taking in the smell of him. "I see him… See him take her from me… Every night. I wake up screaming."

George ran his fingers through her untamed locks. She had cried enough tears over her lost mother, and now she was simply angry. The man who had taken her from Sara was free, serving Voldemort.

"Is it true what everyone says?" George asked. "Did she look like you?"

He felt her lips against his neck curve into a smile.

"She was taller, a little skinnier, and her hair wasn't as unruly… But yeah, we look like we could be sisters," she said.

"I wish I could've met her," George said, playing with one of her curls.

"I wish I could remember her, at least," Sara sighed.

They sat there in silence until, much later, they realized that they were sitting in the semi-darkness. The sun had gone down, and the only light came from the streetlamps outside. George's lips had wandered down her neck and were seeking out her sensitive spot.

"My dad might be home soon," she said, twining her fingers through his hair.

"Then you'll just have to keep it down," he smirked.

But sure enough, as soon as she'd said it, she heard the crack downstairs that meant her father was home.

"You have to go," she whispered.

She jumped up, and he stood, claiming her lips once more before Disapparating with a crack.

"Sara? Are you alright?" her father called up the stairs.

"Yeah, great," she laughed.

Sara awoke the morning of her seventeenth birthday with a start. She stared around her room and watched the remnants of a Weasley firework disappear into nothingness. Her father stood in her doorway, a large smile on his face.

"Where did you get that?" Sara asked, her voice loud but still groggy.

"The twins sent me some last year fer Christmas. I can' let yeh sleep the day away, now can I? Happy birthday, love!" Liam cheered. "Wake up and eat."

He left the room and she heard his heavy footsteps retreat down the stairs. She groggily rubbed her eyes and stood up. This was the last day with her father—her last day living with him as a child, at least. As she got dressed, she glanced around her nearly empty room. Fred and George had come the day before and helped her move her stuff to their apartment. All that remained was her bed, her still-full bookshelf, the armchair in the corner, and a few of the ornamental things she didn't feel the need to have with her when she left. The suitcase on the floor was packed with a few essentials that would be coming with her. She threw her pajamas into it, snapped it shut, grabbed her wand off of her bedside table, and looked back at the room once more. She magically made the bed before shutting of the light, closing the door, and trotting down the stairs.

Her father took her out to a late breakfast at her favorite little café before toting her off to the Ministry for her Apparition test. The examiner seemed to be positively elated with her Apparition and passed her, in his words, "without any trepidations." By the time they returned home, it was nearly 5:00. George would be arriving at 6:00. Despite her father's protests, she prepared them dinner. She set three places at the table and, when the clock chimed six times, a crack just outside the door made Sara nearly drop the ladle she was using to spoon the soup into the bowls. The bell rang and her father went to answer the door.

"Come in, son. I hope yeh'll be havin' some dinner with us?" her father's voice, a bit gruffer than usual, drifted into the kitchen.

"Of course, sir," George said as they appeared in the doorway.

Sara smiled brightly when she saw him. She drew up and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, careful not to linger too long in front of her father. He looked nervous, which was something she was not used to seeing in either of the twins.

"Let's eat," she suggested cheerily.

Sara moved to sit in her original seat, but it seemed George was intent on sitting there. He pulled out the chair and stood behind it, watching her intently. She realized he was pulling it out for her in an attempt at chivalry in front of her father. She smiled widely at the gesture and took the seat, all the while beaming up at George. His face reddened slightly under her gaze as he took his own seat across the table from her. All of this did not go unnoticed by Liam, who was watching them out of the corner of his eye.

"So, George," her father asked him as they began to eat, "how's business?"

"Well, we just opened up the shop. We were still setting up and doing inventory and whatnot, and we were trying to keep up with the postal service we were running since last year, you know, for close acquaintances. It got a bit overwhelming though, we had to put that on hold. Already business is booming though," he explained in a very excited fashion.

"Good to hear," Liam said, returning to his soup.

The conversation during dinner was polite, though Sara and George couldn't help but catch one another's eye across the table and smile. As they finished, Sara magically cleared the plates and sat with them at the table, hands folded in waiting. Her father shot her a warning glance, and she sighed as she stood from the table.

"I'll just… Ah… Whatever, I'll go so you can talk about me," she shrugged, deciding not to talk around the truth and heading upstairs.

However, she had no intention of sitting upstairs and ignoring the conversation. She grabbed the pair of Extendable Ears she'd stowed in her suitcase and returned to the top of the stairs. She popped one end in her ear and lowered the other end down. Her father and George must have made their way into the sitting room because their voices were loud and clear when they began speaking a few moments later.

"George, what are yehr intentions with meh daughter?" her father's voice asked sternly.

"Sir?" George asked hesitantly.

"If I'm sendin' her off to live with yeh, I've got to know that yehr not just gonna up and leave because yeh get sick of her," Liam explained.

Though she cringed at his words, Sara had a sudden outpouring of affection for her father. It was evident how much he cared for her.

"Sir, I love your daughter. I've loved her since the day I met her. One day, I… I'd like to ask her to marry me," George said.

Sara felt her eyes widen a bit. Marriage seemed to be the farthest thing from her mind, but after dating George for nearly a year and a half, the topic was bound to come up. She could feel the smile pull at the corners of her lips despite her mixed feelings.

"Marry her, eh?" her father muttered.

"Yes, sir," George replied.

"She's the only thing I have left, George. Yeh understand? I'm not prepared to give up her heart to just anyone," Liam said.

"I'd never dream of taking her heart away from you, sir. But maybe you could just… Share some of it with me," George chuckled.

"That's exactly how she said it," Liam murmured. After a short silence he said, "Well, if I might be frank, I can' think of a better person to let borrow it."

"Well, thank you, sir," George replied.

"Yeh seem to know meh daughter better than anyone," Liam conceded.

"Well enough to venture a guess that she's probably been listening to us the whole time, sir."

Sara gasped. She was unable to clap her hand over her mouth soon enough to drown out the sound. As quickly as she could, she reeled up the Extendable Ears and sprinted back to her room.

"Yeh know I can hear yeh shufflin' around up there, might as well just come down," her father called up the stairs.

She trudged down the stairs with her suitcase in hand and an embarrassed blush still staining her cheeks. She surveyed the two men standing at the foot of the stairs, both of which were chuckling at her expense.

"Shut up," she grumbled, trying to hide the smile creeping back onto her lips.

"Haven' said anything, love," her father replied. "Looks like I can let yeh go… Fer now," he added with a glance toward George.

Sara handed George her suitcase before turning to her father. He scooped her up into a large hug, and she could feel the tears brimming in her eyes.

"I love you, daddy," she whispered.

"I love yeh too, darlin'," he muttered.

He kissed her forehead and let her go. She drew up next to George and took his arm.

"George, take care of her," Liam ordered.

"Yes, sir."

And, with a crack, they were gone. When they reappeared, they were in the middle of a dark room. George flicked his wand and the lights went up. They were in a semi-neat room that Sara believed belonged to George. She held tightly to his arm still, and he looked down to see her crying.

"What's wrong?" he asked, setting the suitcase down and pulling her into his arms.

"I don't know," she replied, burying her face in his neck. "He's always had me there to take care of him. I know he's not going to eat properly, he's going to work himself to death, and—"

"Hey, hey, hey," he chided, rubbing her back. "I think he knows a thing or two about taking care of himself. He raised you, and you turned out alright."

"I guess," she sniffled. "It's just… So strange. Like, I'm leaving him for good. I know it's not true, that's just how it feels."

"It feels weird for a little bit, but then you start to enjoy being an adult. It does come with privileges," he chuckled.

"You're right," she sighed.

"Finally!" he exclaimed, throwing his fist up in victory.

"Don't push it," she smirked.

"Want to see what we've done with the place?" George asked excitedly

"Absolutely," she replied.

He took her arm and led her out of the bedroom. Sara could tell immediately that this apartment belonged to Fred and George. It was sparsely decorated, and a bit messy. There were a few couches and chairs in the sitting room, and very few (and mostly dirty) dishes in the kitchen. There was a bathroom that was (thankfully) relatively clean, as well as two other bedrooms. One George deemed unfit for Sara's viewing, and she assumed it belonged to Fred. The other was about the same size as George's, but had her things in it.

"This is your room," he said, shutting the door behind him.

"Well," she proclaimed, turning to face the apartment with her hands on her hips, "it'll need some personal touches from me, but I like it."

"I'm glad," George sounded relieved.

"Can I see the shop?" she asked excitedly.

"I thought you'd never ask."

There were two doors in the apartment that led out. One of them led to a set of stairs that led to an alley next to the shop. The other set led directly into the shop below. George covered her eyes as he helped her down the wooden staircase to the bottom floor.

"Ta da!" he laughed as he pulled them away.

Sara was in complete awe. There were shelves stacked to the ceiling, each one full of products. There were also bins full of things Sara had never seen before. The Skiving Snackboxes had expanded to include different varieties, and seemed to be selling very well. There were trick wands, quills of all varieties, love potions, candies, Muggle magic tricks, and more. He led her into one of the back rooms where some of their more serious products were. There were boxes of things Sara had never even heard of. She picked up one of the Invisibility Gloves and pulled it over her hand, which disappeared.

"Alright," she admitted, turning to George. "I suppose this is pretty amazing."

"Really?" he asked, beaming.

"I can't believe it. I never thought you two could carry anything to the end, but you did it," she laughed.

"Here, come here," he took her hand and pulled her along.

They left the back room and entered another that said _"Employees ONLY! Keep out if you value your lives!"_ It seemed to be the experimentation room. There were two desks littered with prototypes of products. There were sketches on scraps of parchment, random parts littered on the floor, and the garbage cans were overflowing.

"This is our imagination room," George explained. "We feel we work best in a sort of organized chaos."

"I won't touch any of it, I promise," she raised her hands in defeat.

"We've got an inventory room too," he said, pulling her along. "There's one more thing…"

"Oh dear," she said, sensing his tone.

He pushed open a final door, and Sara just laughed. It was similar to their imagination room in size, but was considerable worse for wear. There were receipts all over the desk and floor around it. It looked as if they'd started in piles and just fallen over.

"Let me guess," she crossed her arms over her chest. "This is my room."

"Well, I told you we can't keep track of our own money to save our lives. You'll just have to teach me your ways."

He pulled her against him and laid his forehead against hers.

"Where's Fred?" she asked.

"At Angelina's new place. He won't be back until the morning."

"So… We've got the place to ourselves?"

It didn't take George more than that to know what she was implying. He took her hand and led her up the wooden stairs and into his room. They fell onto the bed in a flurry of movement, disappearing together beneath the sheets.


	32. Narcissa

George woke up the next morning and found himself quite immobile. He cracked open his eyes and smiled as he remembered why. Sara was pressed against his body, his arms were wrapped around her, and her legs were twined around his. He watched her for a while, trying to memorize every bit of her. Her hair was scattered messily over the pillow, but still framed her sleeping face. Her lips were parted slightly. He leaned down and pressed his lips gently to hers, seeing no way out of bed other than waking her up.

"Morning," he smirked as she groaned beneath his touch.

"No, it's impossible, it can't be," she grumbled.

"But it is, love," he laughed, kissing the tip of her nose.

He unwound himself from her and climbed out of bed, leaving her to struggle with the sheets. When he came back from the bathroom, she was in her underwear and the shirt he'd discarded the night before.

"It's a good look on you," he chuckled.

"It smells like you," she explained.

"I have a smell?"

"Everyone has a smell."

She padded into the kitchen and he heard running water. After a quick shower and a shave, he went out into the kitchen as well. In the fifteen minutes he'd been gone, the room looked completely different. All the dishes were washed, and there were eggs and sausages frying on the stove. She was sitting on the counter, flicking her wand almost lazily. The eggs flipped themselves, and two plates soared from the cabinet onto the counter next to her. She noticed him and smiled warmly.

"Amazing, you are," he remarked, sidling between her legs and leaning up the short distance to brush his lips against hers.

She slipped her legs around his waist and ran her fingers through his still-damp hair. Their tongues were locked in a battle for dominance when the door burst open.

"Where is she?" Fred shouted, looking braced.

"Looks like we've been spotted," George said, smirking against her lips.

"Maybe if we don't move, he won't see us," Sara suggested.

"Not likely," Fred chuckled.

Sara summoned a third plate and dished eggs and sausages onto them, passing one to each boy and keeping a third for herself.

"Have a good night?" Sara asked, trying to contain her smirk.

"Probably about as good as yours," he winked, tearing into his breakfast.

"Oh, shut it," she and George both mumbled, trying to hide their smiles behind their forkfuls of egg.

"So," Fred said, his mouth full, "did you show her the shop?"

"Oh, Fred, it's amazing," Sara gushed. "Quite honestly, I can't believe you two had the resolve to get it all together."

"See what we can do when we care?" Fred laughed.

Fred and George left their plates in the sink and headed downstairs to open up while Sara got settled. She emptied her trunk in her room and took a shower before heading down. She found it nearly impossible to walk, there were so many people already there, and it was still early. Fred and George were nowhere to be found, so Sara headed back to her accounting room. She was reaching for the handle when a voice right behind her made her jump.

"I'm sorry, but you can't go in there!"

Sara turned to see a tall girl with short blond hair, her arms full of fake wands.

"Oh, well—"

"She's our accountant, she can go wherever she wants," Fred said, suddenly right behind the girl. "And I'll take those."

"Oh, I'm sorry," the girl said as she handed over the wands. "Didn't know I was meeting the famous Sara."

"You know who I am?" Sara asked, a bit taken aback.

"George never stops talking about you. I'm Verity, by the way, Fred and George needed a few extra hands," she said, smiling down at Sara.

"Well, Verity, it's nice to meet you," she laughed, extending her hand and shaking Verity's briefly.

"I've got to get back to work, but let me know if you need anything!"

Verity zoomed off around the corner just as Fred called for her. Sara opened the door to her room and winced. It was as if she'd been hit by an invisible force of work. It seemed as if the receipts had multiplied. Resolving herself to the task ahead of her, she Conjured a piece of parchment, a quill, and a rubbish container and set to work. She'd write down the amount, was up the receipt, and toss it into the waste basket. It filled up twice, and she Vanished it with a flick of her wand. The volume outside fluctuated, and she had no idea how long she'd been in the room. When she felt her hand cramp, she put down the quill and stood up, stretching her arms over her head. The door clicked open, and George poked his head inside.

"How long have you been in here?" he asked, looking down at his watch.

"I'm not sure, what time is it?"

"1:00."

"I've been in here for four hours?" she exclaimed.

"So it would seem," he laughed.

"Has it slowed down?" she asked, slinking forward and snaking her arms around his neck.

"A bit. I'm taking my break, want to go get some lunch?" he asked, his arms winding around her waist.

"I suppose."

They headed out onto the less-crowded floor. George swooped down on a kid who had stuffed a Spectrum Splasher into his pocket. They headed out into the warm July sun, and Sara felt it warm her skin.

"Where are we going?" she asked, looking at the shops around them.

"Just a little place down the way," he said, pointing down the street.

Sara enjoyed coming to Diagon Alley every summer, but it had never looked like this. A fair number of buildings had been boarded up, some of the windows had been broken, and most surfaces were covered with Ministry posters. There were a few stalls that were selling items designed to protect against dark magic. One of the men leered at Sara and held out a gold amulet.

"Protect your little girlfriend from Werewolves with this, mate. Five Galleons, a bargain," he cooed.

"No thanks," George brushed him off, pulling Sara along.

"These are new," she said, gesturing toward the stalls.

"They're popping up everywhere. Dad's been promoted at work, he's in charge of arresting the people who put them up. I guess they sell, though they don't work," George explained.

They got their lunch from a small sandwich shop that Sara had never seen before. It was one of the only restaurants left in Diagon Alley, but it was relatively empty. Sara supposed it was because people only came here now for school supplies, and school wouldn't start for more than a month. They ordered their sandwiches and ate them on the walk back. George couldn't help but notice how many of the stall-owners liked to leer at Sara as they passed. He slid an arm around her shoulder protectively. She looked up at him with wide eyes, but he just smiled back.

"Verity seems nice," Sara commented as they neared the shop.

"She's great. Works hard," he said through his last mouthful of sandwich.

"Pretty," she added offhandedly.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Not my type though. I like my blonds short and sweet."

"I like my redheads tall and muscly," she winked. "Too bad there are two of you for me to choose from!"

"Your knight in shining armor is just inside," he gestured toward the front door of the shop.

"Hmmm…" she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Very tempting. But I don't think I want a knight. I'd rather have my prince."

He opened the door for her, leaning down and surprising her with a lingering kiss.

"My princess," he drawled in a thick Russian accent.

"Oh, god," she groaned, stalking back into the shop.

"Hey, I was messing around!" he exclaimed as he followed her inside.

"Ivan was a proper gentleman when you were pussyfooting around asking me out," she called over her shoulder.

"Trouble in paradise?" Fred called from behind one of the shelves.

"Yeah, we're breaking up," she called back, retreating into her receipt room.

She made a significant amount of headway before they closed up the shop. To Sara's chagrin, Fred and George each brought in a small box full of more receipts and added them to her pile.

"You don't pay me enough for this," she sighed, running her fingers through her blond locks.

"Hold up, we're paying her?" Fred said in mock alarm.

"You owe me your life, Fred Gideon Weasley," she snapped. "This is like the minimum payment plan."

"Come on, let's go eat before you bite each other's heads off," George suggested.

For a few weeks, this was how everyday went. Sara woke up next to George, made the boys breakfast, and retreated into her receipt room. Then she and George would go get lunch. After that, it was back to the receipt room until the shop closed. Then she and the boys would go upstairs where she made dinner and they whittled time away until it was time to go to bed.

Occasionally, Fred would go off for the night to Angelina's place. Sara and George took this opportunity to have sex all over the house. Aside from Fred's room, there wasn't a room that they left untouched. Fred was pretty pissed when he came home late one night after a fight with Angelina to find them having sex on the kitchen counter.

"You're just upset because you and Angelina fought," George had tried to reason with him the next morning.

"I'm upset because I eat food off that counter!" Fred had shouted.

"I cleaned it," Sara had added sheepishly.

After that, they were careful where and when to get hot and heavy.

It was early August when Sara got her Hogwarts letter. Inside was the typical textbook list and start-of-term letter, along with something special.

"I'm Head Girl!" she shouted as she flew downstairs into the shop.

"Really?" Fred and George both said as they popped their heads out from behind different shelves.

"Yeah, look!"

She brandished the letter at each of them, jumping up and down excitedly.

"Head Girl," Fred said approvingly.

"We're very proud of you," George smirked as he leaned down and gave her a kiss.

"I think I only got it because you two aren't there anymore," she said seriously as she looked back down at the letter.

"Thanks," they both said.

"I get 24-hour roaming privileges, so I can go anywhere I want in the castle at any time," she went on, ignoring their sarcasm, "And my own room, and a common room that I share with the Head Boy. I wonder who it'll be."

Fred and George both looked mischievously at each other before muttering, "Cormac."

"No!" Sara shouted. "No, it can't be. He was a Prefect, sure. But he can't… Dumbledore wouldn't possibly… No…"

"Keep telling yourself that," Fred chuckled.

* * *

><p>It was a Sunday afternoon. Fred and George were both down in the shop, doing menial inventory work. A few kids had expectantly come up to the windows, seen the "Closed for Mischief" sign, and walked away downtrodden. A knock on the front door knocked George out of his number-induced trance. He turned to see someone in a black, hooded cloak looking up and down the street, their clenched fist pressed against the glass. He looked over at his twin, who was assessing the situation. The figure looked back inside the shop and knocked again.<p>

"Open it," Fred said, drawing his wand.

George tentatively approached the door, took a deep breath, and opened it.

"I'm sorry, but we're not open on Sundays," he said politely, though his hand in his pocket was gripping his wand.

"I need to speak to Sara," a female voice spoke from beneath the cloak.

"Oh," George said, more suspicious now. "Well, I'll need to see who you are then. Can't let just anyone in here, you know."

The woman looked up and down the street once more before lifting her hood slightly. George was taken aback.

"Narcissa?" he asked, incredibly confused.

"I need to speak to Sara," she repeated.

George stepped aside and let her in, closing the door and drawing the blinds on all the windows. He knew it was dangerous for her to be here; that was why she was acting so skittish. She felt safe enough inside the locked shop, so she dropped her hood completely, looking expectantly at the redhead in front of her.

"Follow me," he gestured.

He led her up the staircase to the top floor. When he reached the top step, he heard music coming from the apartment. He couldn't help the smile that flickered over his face. Slowly, he cracked open the door.

"Just in time, lunch is ready," Sara announced when she caught sight of him.

"Uh, well, I can take it down to Fred, but… You have a visitor," he said, glancing behind him.

"Who?" she asked, wiping her hands on her pants.

He opened the door all the way, revealing the Malfoy at his side. The smile fell from Sara's face instantly. In fact, she looked furious.

"She can leave," Sara ordered, turning quickly away from them.

"Your mother would have heard me out," Narcissa said.

Sara turned back to them, a look of rage on her face.

"What gives you the right to talk to me about her?" Sara snarled, drawing right up to Narcissa.

"You look just like her," she said.

"So I've heard," Sara rolled her eyes.

"I… I need your help," she said, barely above a whisper.

Sara stared at her for a minute before sighing and turning away. She summoned two plates and put the sandwiches she'd prepared on them.

"One for you, one for Fred," she said, handing the plates to George.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, glancing over at Narcissa.

"I'm sure, now get back to work," she ordered.

She leaned up and planted a short kiss on his lips before ushering him out the door and closing it behind him. She turned back to see Narcissa staring at her.

"Are you two…?" she asked, trailing off.

"George and I have been dating for a year and a half," Sara explained. "That's not why you're here though. What do you need my help with?"

"I… I can't say."

She looked down, seemingly fighting an internal battle. Sara looked at her with a bewildered expression. For at least 10 minutes, Sara just stared at her without saying anything until it became too uncomfortable to bear.

"If you can't tell me, then why did you come here?" Sara asked.

"Because I don't have anyone else to go to," Narcissa looked back up at her.

Sara bit her tongue. This was the look of a desperate woman who was very pointedly doing her best to fight back her tears. With a defeated sigh, she took a seat at the table and gestured for Narcissa to sit as well.

"Then could you tell me what it's about?" she asked.

"Draco," Narcissa whispered.

"What did he do?"

"It's… He hasn't done anything yet, but… It's what he's going to do," she murmured.

"And you can't tell me what that is," Sara concluded.

Narcissa shook her head.

"You want me to help him, and you can't tell me how," Sara said, looking incredulous.

"He… He will fail," Narcissa whispered, looking at Sara with wide eyes. "He will fail, and the Dark Lord knows—"

Narcissa covered her mouth abruptly, but the damage was done. Sara's eyes had widened, and she seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. At that moment, the door opened and George reappeared.

"Sorry, don't want to bother, Fred says he's dying of thirst," he chuckled.

Sara rose from the table and pointed a shaking finger at the door.

"Get out," she commanded. "Get. Out. Now."

"Sara, please," she begged.

"I thought I would give you a chance. My mother's sister, and all," she said darkly, her words laced with venom.

"Your mother would—" she tried again.

"You think you get to speak to me about her?" Sara shouted, hysterical now. "You know bloody well how she was killed, and instead of running from it, you bury yourself deeper in! How fucking dare you come into our home and ask for my help!"

"Sara, come on," George cut in, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Get her out of here," she hissed, standing from the table and stalking toward the bedroom.

"You don't understand," Narcissa tried once more.

"No, I understand perfectly," Sara spat with vehemence. "And if you really wanted to, you could ask Rodolphus."

She slammed the door behind her, leaving George and Narcissa alone in the room together.

"I think you should go," he suggested, opening the door behind him.

She slipped her cloak back on and swept toward the door, stopping in front of George and looking up at him with striking grey eyes.

"Has she processed that film yet?" she asked him.

"Uh… film?" he repeated.

"If not, it's in her best interest to do so," Narcissa advised.

With that, she set off down the stairs. He heard the door close behind her as she left. After standing there for a moment, he went back and checked on Sara. She was looking out the window and facing away from the door. He stepped up behind her and wound his arms around her waist. She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Are you going to tell me what that was about?" he asked.

"Not yet," she whispered.

"Whenever you're ready then," he chuckled, leaning down and kissing her temple.

She turned in his arms and wrapped her own around his neck, pressing her forehead against his.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he said, punctuating it with a short kiss.

* * *

><p>There was blood everywhere. Sara stepped through the doorway, trying to avoid the puddles of blood on the kitchen floor. The trails led into the kitchen. Slowly, she walked over the creaky hardwood floor, past the kitchen table, and into the doorway of the living room. She fell to her knees, unable to make a sound.<p>

Her mother's mutilated body was on the ground in front of her. Her father was dead on the couch. George was lying outstretched on the coffee table, Fred on the floor next to him. Lupin was in front of the fireplace. All were dead. And in front of the window, Rodolphus stood with a knife, covered in blood, smirking at her. He lifted to blade to his lips and licked the blood from it.

"You're next," he muttered.

Sara screamed and sat bolt upright in bed. She attempted to pull the blankets around her body. There was rustling on the bed next to her. She looked over into George's concerned eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a sleep voice.

"He's gonna come after me next!" she cried, leaning into him and burying her face in the crook of his neck. "I'm next, George!"

"What do you mean, you're next?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her.

"He killed my mother, now he's trying to kill my dad. He's gonna come after me, George!" she sobbed.

"Who's trying to kill you?" he asked, rubbing her back gently.

"Rodolphus Lestrange!" she exclaimed. "He killed my mother!"

The room was silent except for her muffled sobs as she cried against George.

"Sara," he tried soothingly. "It's… He's in Azkaban."

"Sirius was able to break out," she sniffled. "Barty Crouch… All the Death Eaters who were in last year, and he was one of them! George, he can do it again. And now he knows who I am…"

"For now, I'm going to do my best to protect you. Then you'll go to Hogwarts, and after that you come right back to me," George said. "I'm not gonna let him hurt you."

"George, if he knows that you and I—"

"Don't even try with this, you won't just push me away like that," George chuckled.

"This isn't funny!" Sara cried.

"It's absolutely not funny," George smirked.

"George!" she cried, hitting him in the shoulder.

"Look, if you want to break up, just say so. Don't use a Death Eater to try and scare me away so you don't have to."

"George!" Sara exclaimed.

Sara sat up and pulled the sheet around her body. She stood from the bed and shuffled to the window.

"Look," George conceded as he followed her. "I'm sorry, I know it's not funny. You knew when you signed up to date me that I don't know when it's appropriate to make jokes."

"I know," Sara sighed, leaning back against him. "I'm just scared."

"I know you are," he said as he wound his arms around her.

"I don't want you to get hurt," she said.

"I know you don't."

"I'm not going to convince you of anything, am I?"

"Not in the slightest," he smirked as he pulled her tighter to him. "I love you."

"I love you too," she muttered.


	33. Jason

Sara opened her eyes to see George staring at her. The sky outside the window was still dark, and she groaned.

"What time is it?" she asked, moving to press herself against him.

"About six," he replied, burying his face in her hair.

"Noooooo," she groaned again.

"You don't have to get up yet," he chuckled.

"Not yet, but I have to eventually. And when I do, it's just so I can leave you," she muttered.

George didn't respond. He had been dreading this day just as much as she had. Instead, he tried to memorize the smell of her hair and the way she felt wrapped up in his arms. She was so soft and warm. He'd never wanted to stop time more than he did now.

"I don't want to go," she whispered.

He'd never heard her voice sound so small before.

"You have to," he replied.

"I can stay here, work at the shop," she suggested.

"You're too orange for that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, sounding slightly offended.

"You're orange," he repeated. "That's your color. Me and Fred, we're blue. We try to stand out, but we'll never be bright and shiny. So we find ways to make other people notice us. You, you're orange. You can try all you want to be in the background, but you'll never blend in… You're everything Fred and I want to be, and you don't have to try. You weren't made to be tucked away in a shop. You were made to save the world or save lives… And you can't do that just staying here."

George leaned down and captured her lips in a soft kiss. He threaded his fingers through her hair and dipped his tongue into her mouth. She lifted herself up to straddle his waist, resting one of her hands on his chest to support her. Her other hand reached behind her to grip his semi-hard cock.

"You're not just blue," she mumbled, giving it a few strokes.

"W-what?" he shuddered, trying to speak through the pleasurable sensations her hand was sending through him.

"I'm orange, right?" she asked, removing her hand and rolling her hips back to rub her already wet core against him.

"Right," he mumbled, throwing his head back against the pillow.

"Well," she mused, "there aren't very many variations on orange. It's pretty much just orange. But there are lots of blues."

Without a proper warning, she leaned back and sat on his cock, taking all of him in. He hissed at the friction, and she whimpered.

"What kind of blue am I?" he asked, rocking his hips up against hers.

"Sky blue," she replied.

She moved slowly up and down his cock, wanting to relish his feral growls while she had the time. However, George was not so patient. His hands worked their way toward her hips. He gripped them roughly, digging his fingers until he felt the bones. He wanted to leave bruises, wanted it to hurt. His grip allowed him to bring her down harder and faster. One of her hands fell to his chest, her nails digging into the skin she found. She moaned and threw her head back. Her other hand dropped to her clit, which she started to rub furiously.

"George," she moaned, her voice frantic now. "George, oh… Please…"

Without warning, he lifted his hips straight off the bed, slamming himself all the way into her. She was lifted off of her knees and cried out as her orgasm rocked through her body. She fell forward but continued rubbing furiously at her clit, riding out her orgasm. George followed her quickly, dropping back onto the bed. Their ragged breathing filled the room, permeating the silence.

"George," she whispered against his neck. "George, I love you."

"I love you too," he mumbled, wrapping his arms securely around her.

Sara tried to ignore the tears she felt in her eyes. This was a stupid thing to be crying over. She would see George in a few months—probably sooner, if the Hogsmeade trips continued. But after spending the summer with him, she had forgotten what it felt like to wake up without him.

"I'm afraid of how much I'm going to miss you," she whispered.

He sighed, his fingers running over her skin. He didn't want to know what it felt like to open his eyes and not see her sleeping in his arms.

"What can I do to make it better?" he asked, burying his face in her hair and taking in her scent. "I'll write you. I'll write you all the time."

"Everyday," she smiled against neck.

"Everyday," he vowed.

They stayed in bed for another two hours before getting up. Sara had packed up everything the night before, but they did one last check around the flat for good measure. Sara found one of her shirts wedged in the couch and a bra on top of the refrigerator.

"Merlin, put that away," Fred grumbled, padding into the kitchen.

"I'm glad I didn't leave it, it's my favorite one," she said, not even bothering to hide the black lacy bra.

"If you didn't feel the need to shag in the kitchen, this wouldn't be a problem," Fred mumbled.

"I made you breakfast," Sara called over her shoulder as she went to put the bra and shirt in her trunk.

After the bra and shirt had been tucked away—as well as a shirt stolen from the top of George's laundry pile—and her trunk had been latched shut, Sara took a seat on top of it and looked around the room. There were parchment scraps, laundry, and candy wrappers all over the floor. Normally, this would have bothered Sara to no end. But it was George. George didn't like to throw things away, and he didn't do his own laundry until he was completely out of clothes—but this was only in secret, he was quite organized in the public eye.

"You still can't clean it up."

Sara looked up at George, who was standing behind her. She smiled and leaned her head back against his leg.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she sighed.

"You mean… You're just going to leave a mess as it is? Where's the real Sara? What have you done with her?" he teased.

"I can accept the fact that you're messy, it's part of who you are," she shrugged.

"I suppose I can learn to accept the fact that you're a neat freak," George said as he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"Will you be lonely without me?" she asked, savoring the contact of his lips against her skin.

"Terribly," he sighed.

"That's enough of that!" Fred exclaimed, marching into the room. "You weren't thinking of leaving without saying goodbye, were you?"

"Never," Sara smiled, rising from her trunk.

Fred threw his arms around her, and Sara laughed, trying to ignore the tears that threatened to fall.

"I'll take care of him," he whispered, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

"Thanks," she laughed, rubbing at the wet spot.

"Go on, get out of here," he said as he ruffled here hair.

"I'll be seeing you at Christmas! Be sure to let me know what you want!"

"Oh, we'll be in touch," he winked.

"Shall we go?" George asked.

"I suppose," she sighed.

George grabbed her trunk and her arm, and in an instant they were turning. Fred waved goodbye as they Disapperated with a crack. He stared at the spot where they had been for a few moments. Then, he sighed, returning to the kitchen to eat his now cold breakfast.

When the pressure finally stopped, Sara opened her eyes and found herself staring at the Hogwarts Express. Never before had she been less excited to see it. Her stomach was turning over.

"Just promise me one thing," George said.

Sara turned to look at him and found him staring resolutely at the train, like he just couldn't look at her.

"Anything," she replied.

"If… If it is Cormac… Just don't fall for him or anything, alright?"

A second passed, then Sara snorted. George turned to see her laughing hysterically. The sight made him laugh as well. The crowd of passers-by stared at them as they leaned over her trunk trying to catch their breath.

"Tempting as it is," Sara laughed as she rubbed her eyes, "I'll try to steer clear of Cormac. Though, if he is Head Boy, with such close quarters, you never know."

"Just try to give me some warning if I need to come and kick his ass."

"George, you're the only man for me," she smiled, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Keep it that way," he smirked.

"Try to stay out of trouble."

"I'll do my best."

"And make sure you eat enough."

"Yes dear," he chuckled.

"And don't forget about me."

"Never," he vowed.

She leaned up and gently touched her lips to his. It was a soft kiss—nothing like their typical kisses. But still, it seemed to say more than any words they could have ever spoken. He leaned his forehead against hers.

"I love you," he mumbled.

"I love you too," she smiled.

The whistle blew, signaling that the train would be pulling away soon. Sara clambered up the steps, taking her trunk from George. The doors closed automatically. Sara watched as the train lurched forward, but George followed it until the end of the platform. Sara stuck her head out the open window and waved, watching George and the platform grow smaller and smaller. Finally, the train rounded the corner and George disappeared from view.

Sara sighed shakily. This would be okay. She would see him in a couple of months, and this would give him some proper time to miss him. Dragging her trunk behind her, she headed up the corridor to the compartment near the front of the train that she knew to be the Head Boy and Girl compartment. The door was open, and she crossed her fingers praying that it wasn't Cormac sitting inside.

When she stepped inside, she was pleasantly surprised. It was Jason Samuels, one of the Beaters on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. She'd had a few classes with him during her time at Hogwarts. He had sleek black hair and looked up at her with sharp grey eyes.

"Sara Roth," he said in a rather appraising voice. "I'd assumed it would be you."

"You know who I am?" she asked incredulously as she stowed her trunk away and took the seat across from him.

"We all know who you are," he smirked.

"All?"

"Come on now," he chuckled. "You're a smart girl. You don't notice most of the guys in the school looking at you rather covetously? Or looking at your little boyfriend rather contemptuously?"

"You're rather forward, aren't you?" Sara matched his smirk with one of her own.

"Just know what I like," he shrugged.

"I'm still dating that _little boyfriend_, you know."

"I still have time to change your mind then."

Sara just laughed. Normally she would have just walked away from a bastard like this. But there was something so entertaining about Jason. Like he was challenging her or something—and she wanted nothing more than to accept that challenge.

"This year's going to be fun, isn't it?" she asked.

This time he just laughed. They were interrupted by the fifth-year Prefects milling about outside.

"I'll take the girls," Sara said, standing up and heading out into the hall.

She gave them the standard information that she had been given her fifth-year—what Prefects can and can't do, how the rounds were made on the train and at school, the password to the bathroom, and so on. She then sent them off to make their rounds and did one herself. When she passed by a compartment filled with Slytherins, they quieted. She noticed Draco inside looking rather sullen. When he caught her eye, she made sure to give him as contemptuous a glare as possible before turning her nose up and moving on.

Draco was doing something for Voldemort now. Her mind had spun with theories after Narcissa had told her that the Dark Lord was expecting him to fail. She could only assume that he was a Death Eater now. How did Narcissa expect Sara to help him? Even if she knew what he was doing and could help him, there was no way she would. She assumed whatever he was doing was punishment for his father's failure—he'd been sent to Azkaban with the other Death Eaters after their capture in the Ministry last year. Sara gave an involuntary shudder when she thought of Rodolphus. It made her safer knowing he was sitting in a cell in Azkaban right now, but not safe enough.

She returned to the compartment and found Jason sound asleep on his bench, his arm thrown over his eyes. The sun was weak, but more visible than it had been this morning. She had just taken out her new Potions book when the compartment door slid open and a meek-looking boy stepped inside.

"Excuse me," he squeaked. "Are you Sara Roth?"

"That's me," she smiled at him.

"I'm supposed to deliver this to you."

He thrust the letter into her hands and tore from the room. Sara looked after him with a confused expression.

"Look how intimidating," Jason muttered, cracking open his eyes and smirking over at her.

"Yeah, I was definitely about to bite his head off," she rolled her eyes and tore open the letter.

_Sara Roth,  
><em>_I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.  
><em>_Sincerely,  
><em>_Professor H. E. F. Slughorn_

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" she asked aloud.

"Probably the new Defense Against the Dark Arts guy. Maybe this one'll stick," Jason muttered.

"Not likely," Sara chuckled. "He'll probably get chased off by centaurs like the last one."

"It won't even be him. It'll be another Death Eater out for blood masquerading as him," Jason added.

"Or he'll get blasted by his own Memory Charm."

"Or maybe he'll be a werewolf."

"No, this one'll be special. He'll get eaten by a dragon or something," Sara laughed.

Jason went back to sleep and Sara left for lunch with Slughorn. She was almost there when she met up with Harry and Neville.

"You were invited too?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yeah, I guess," Sara shrugged. "I don't even know who he is."

"Me neither," Neville mumbled, looking incredibly nervous.

"Well, perk up. If I'm here, it has to be something good," she winked.

They all laughed and chatted about their summers. When they reached compartment C, they realized they were not the only invitees. A portly man leaped from his seat and clapped his hands together at the sight of them. He had a shiny bald head and waxed moustache.

"Harry, m'boy!" he exclaimed. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom!"

Neville nodded nervously. He looked terrified again. Slughorn rested his eyes on Sara and smiled warmly.

"Ah, the spitting image of your mother. You are of course Ms. Roth."

"Nice to meet you, sir," she smiled just as warmly.

They took the remaining empty seats and looked around the compartment at the other guests. Slughorn went around and introduced everyone. Sara held back a groan when he gestured to Cormac, who was across the compartment. They were also joined by Blaise Zabini of Slytherin, Marcus Belby of Ravenclaw, and finally Ginny (who looked like she would rather be anywhere else).

"Well now, this is most pleasant," Slughorn nodded approvingly. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on licorice wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things."

He passed around a few dishes and began to interrogate them one by one. Belby's uncle had invented the Wolfsbane Potion. Cormac's uncle was a well-to-do who hung out with the Minister of Magic in his free time. Zabini's mother had been married seven times and had amassed her great fortune through her husbands' deaths. Neville's parents had been famous Aurors who were tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. Apparently they had been very adept at magic, and Slughorn wanted to believe Neville had inherited some of that.

"Ms. Roth, I knew both your mother and father. They were my students just before I retired early," he turned his attention to Sara. "I was so sad to hear about your mother. A brilliant witch, she was, and a gifted Auror as well. So sad, so sad… But your father, is he still doing well?"

"Yes, he was promoted to head of the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad and assists with the Obliviator Headquarters. Always busy, my father," she said with a smile.

"Glad to hear he's doing well," Slughorn said jovially.

He moved on to Harry after that, talking about the rumors of him being "The Chosen One" as well as the death of his parents so many years ago. Then talk turned to the debacle at the Ministry.

"Such rumors this summer. Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the _Prophet _has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes—but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were there in the thick of it all." When Harry merely nodded, he continued. "So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond—you _were _there, then? But the rest of the stories—so sensational, of course, one doesn't know quite what to believe—this fabled prophecy, for instance—"

"We never heard a prophecy," Neville cut in.

"Everything in the hall was destroyed," Sara added.

"That's right," said Ginny. "Neville and Sara and I were there too, and all this 'Chosen One' rubbish is just the _Prophet _making things up as usual."

"You were there too, were you?" Slughorn mused, looking between the three of them with awe. "Yes… well… it is true that the _Prophet _often exaggerates, of course…"

He continued on to tell a story about Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies, then another about Barnabas something who writes for the daily prophet, then another about someone Sara simply did not pay attention to. The afternoon passed filled with stories and more food—Slughorn had apparently been planning on feeding an army. By the time he sent them off, Sara felt full. She didn't know how much she'd be able to eat at the feast tonight.

"I have to get back to the Head compartment, but I'll see you all at dinner," she bade Ginny, Harry, and Neville who were heading in the opposite direction.

She kept her eyes open on the walk back, scolding two fifth-years who were playing with a Fanged Frisbee—though she didn't take it away. When she returned to her compartment, Jason was once again asleep. If he wasn't wearing his robes now, she would have assumed he had slept the entire day. She took the opportunity to put her own robes on before she felt the train slowing down. Jason sat up jerkily.

"We're here," Sara said, closing up her trunk.

"Either that or there's dementors on the prowl again," he muttered sleepily.

"Let's hope not," Sara shook her head.

"But they're so witty and charming," Jason said as he sat up and stretched his arms over his head.

"Yeah, but you wouldn't really want to take them home to your parents," Sara added.

As the train pulled into the station, Sara and Jason trudged out first. They loaded onto a carriage that led them up to the castle. When they reached the gate, their trunks were taken from them and thrown into a pile.

"What's all this?" Jason asked Professor Flitwick, who was holding a clipboard. A few men behind him were rifling through their trunks and running weird scanners over their belongings.

"Just a few necessary precautions. Names please," Flitwick looked up at them.

"Jason Samuels."

"Sara Roth."

"Good, good," he said, checking off each of their names. "Head on inside then."

If the world outside Hogwarts was falling apart, inside it was as if nothing had changed. The candles hung low and glowed faintly, casting a serene glow around the Great Hall. The ceiling reflected the calm, dark sky that was already starting to fill with stars. Slowly but surely, the students filed in and sat at their respective tables. Sara took a seat near the front of the hall at her own table while Jason sat down at his. Sara was joined by a few Gryffindors she barely recognized and who were busy talking to one another. This left her staring around the hall with mild curiosity. When Dumbledore caught her eye, he winked.

Soon, Professor McGonagall came in with the first years in tow. They looked even smaller this year, and considerably more terrified. Professor Dumbledore stood up and immediately the room fell silent.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he said, staring around bemusedly at them. "We'll start with the sorting of our first years, who, if I may say, should not look so nervous. Professor McGonagall, if you will."

"When I call your name, please step forward and take a seat here," she gestured to the stool where the sorting hat was placed.

Sara felt a strange sense of nostalgia watching the students filing up one by one to be sorted. She remembered when she had sat down on that stool six years ago and had a lovely conversation with the hat. It had told her that she would have been well-suited in any of the houses. It was really only because of her father that she had been placed in Gryffindor. She didn't even like to imagine her life if she hadn't been in Gryffindor—Fred and George probably wouldn't have been her best friends, she wouldn't be as close with Katie and Hermione and Ginny, and she might never have fallen in love with George.

As the children were sorted, Sara guessed which house they would be placed in. It was a game she played every year with George, and always won for that matter. When the last one was sorted, the food appeared bountifully on the tables. Though she was still a bit full from Slughorn's luncheon, she piled a bit of mashed potatoes and turkey onto her plate.

"Hey."

She looked up to see one of the boys sitting across from her staring at her. His two friends on either side of him looked equally as interested.

"Hey?" she replied.

"You were there last year, right? At the Ministry? With Potter and all the rest of them?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said tentatively.

"Well, we were just wondering… What really happened there? No one will tell us anything for sure."

"I don't think any of us really know for sure what happened," she sighed. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't blame them for being curious.

"So… He's really back then?" his friend on the right asked.

"Yeah, that's true."

"And he's got Death Eaters running around again?" the friend on the left asked.

"Yeah," she nodded.

The boys resumed their frantic whispering, leaving Sara to her now unpleasant thoughts. Death Eaters were now running rampant. Sure, Rodolphus was locked up for now. But his wife wasn't. And she had a feeling he wouldn't be there for long.

She looked up at the staff table. There was even a Death Eater within the walls of Hogwarts. Dumbledore swore up and down that Snape was reformed and now worked for the Order, but who could really be sure? Voldemort once held his allegiance; who's to say it wouldn't happen again? As if on cue, Snape caught her eye. Neither seemed able to look away until Dumbledore leaned over and whispered something to Snape, who immediately looked sour. He stood from his seat and swept from the Great Hall in a flurry with his robes billowing behind him.

After a while, the dinner disappeared and was replaced by mounds of desserts. Sara nibbled on a piece of cake while letting her mind wander even further. Over the past few years, Harry had come into contact with Voldemort at least a handful of times. He had even been there at the Ministry last year. And still, Sara had never seen him. She had never even heard Harry describe him. For all she knew, he could be purple and scaly. Then again, if he _were_ purple and scaly, he'd be more hilarious than intimidating.

Snape returned to the staff table looking irritated. He once again caught Sara's eyes. His stare was penetrating. He seemed to be concentrating quite hard. His eyebrows knitted together, and finally he looked away. Sara felt a slight sense of victory, but she was acutely aware of his occasional glances toward her after that.

Finally, the desserts disappeared and the hall quieted. Dumbledore stood from his seat and smiled out at them all.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said as he spread his arms.

The entire hall seemed to notice at the same time that his right hand looked shriveled and dead. A few gasps echoed throughout the room and a hum of whispers shot down the tables.

"Nothing to worry about," he waved them off. "Now… to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you. I'm afraid we must go over a few necessities before we can retire for the night. I promise to make my ravings brief. First, please take into account the list of numerous banned items that have been tacked to the boards in each of your common room. And Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Sara couldn't help but notice the small twinkle that had flashed in his eyes. Sara herself could not hide the smirk that crossed her face. She wondered if her trunk had been searched when she wasn't looking, as she had packed a few things Fred and George had given her before she left. She also knew that banning their products would not inhibit the twins from selling to Hogwarts students. They offered special products discretely packaged specifically for this occasion. Hogwarts had definitely not seen the last of the Weasley twins' shenanigans.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

A chorus of "Potions?" hissed around the hall. Sara's eyebrows rose higher than they had ever felt in her life.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," Dumbledore spoke louder now over the talking, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

The hissing only seemed to intensify as people whispered to their neighbors. Sara wished she had Fred or George here to whisper to. They were the only two that she had told about Snape being a Death Eater. She wanted to be able to tell someone that Dumbledore had either lost his mind or was planning something. Instead, she had to keep it to herself.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and gradually the buzz of conversation died down.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."

The silence now was ominous. Sara felt like someone had her stomach in a vice grip.

She regretted eating so much food, as she now assumed it would end up on the floor of the Great Hall. She could sense the eyes of the boys across from her boring into her. She blatantly ignored them, staring instead at a point just above Dumbledore's head. She found it difficult to listen to his words. It wasn't until everyone started standing up and heading out of the hall that she realized he had sent them to bed.

"You alright?" a voice behind her asked.

She turned to see Jason standing above her. His sharp eyes were looking scrupulously down at her.

"Fine, why?" she asked.

"You're still sitting here," he pointed out.

"I was just thinking," she shrugged.

"Can't do it and walk, I see?"

Sara ignored him and stood up. Together, they headed upstairs to where the Head Boy and Girl shared a dormitory. They approached the portrait of Cliodne, a beautiful Irish woman with the sharp eyes of a hawk. Her three magical birds fluttered in and out of the frame.

"You two are quite lovely," she noted as they approached the frame. "Much prettier than the two last year. The boy was a large hulking beast, and the girl was a fright. A much nicer sight this year."

Her portrait swung open, and Sara and Jason stepped inside. They entered into a room similar to the Gryffindor common room, only smaller. A few plush armchairs and a large couch sat around a table. The large stone fireplace lit the room in a low light.

"It's quaint," Jason commented.

"It's nice," Sara said.

"It's no Ravenclaw common room, but it'll do."

"It's no Ravenclaw common room because there are two of us," Sara corrected. "For two people, this is like a palace."

"Do I frustrate you?" Jason asked with a smirk.

"You entertain me," Sara countered. "And I'll need some entertainment with my _little boyfriend_ gone."

"Let me know if your bed gets too lonely," he winked.

With that, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door on the left. With one final glance over his shoulder, he closed the door and disappeared. Sara just smiled. At least he would keep her on her toes. With a sigh, she walked toward the door on the right. When she swung it open, her jaw dropped. The room was enormous, fit for royalty. A fireplace matching the one in the common room burned bright, casting an orange glow around the room. A slew of candles also hung from the wall. An enormous bed decorated in a gold and scarlet comforter, pillows, and tapestry sat against one wall. A large mahogany dresser and dressing table sat against another. A beautiful desk sat against the wall that the door was on. Two more doors revealed a closet with enough room for her to live in and a bathroom at least twice the size of the one she had shared with the other girls last year.

"This is amazing," she mumbled, staring in awe about the room.

Her trunk was at the foot of her bed. She didn't have anywhere near enough stuff to fill the room, but she started unpacking anyway. Apparently, they hadn't thought to hand-search the trunks of the Head Boy and Girl, as she still had everything that she had packed from the shop. She had no doubt that Secrecy-Sensors had been run over it, but Filch hadn't ransacked them like he had done the other trunks. She dedicated one of the drawers of her dresser to Weasley products and used the rest for her clothes. She dug out the framed picture of her and George from the Yule Ball and set it up on her bedside table.

"I wish you could see this, it's fantastic," she smiled down at the picture.

The image of George looked between the Sara in the photo and the camera. She sighed and lay back, finding herself suddenly tired. Tomorrow, she would start the first day of her final year at Hogwarts. It felt so surreal. With her mind full of memories, she drifted off to sleep.


	34. Letters

Sara was at breakfast the next morning sipping some coffee and perusing through one of her new books. She heard swooping, meaning the mail was here. A few of the first years were getting packages from their parents who just couldn't let go yet, and a few of the older students received things they'd managed to forget at home. This was why Sara was so surprised to see a barn owl land gracefully in front of her, a letter in its beak.

"For me?" she asked, putting her book down.

The owl hooted as if in agreement, dropping the letter in front of her plate. Sara tore off a bit of bacon from her plate and tossed it into the owl's mouth before it hooted happily and flew away.

She picked up the letter and turned it over. The handwriting on the front was unmistakable. A smile spread over her face as the tore open the letter and read.

_Dearest Sara,  
><em>_I promised you I'd write everyday, didn't I? Thought I was joking, but I'm not. I plan to write you everyday._

_I just dropped you off at the train station, and I already miss you more than I ever thought I could. This is going to be a terrible few months. But don't think that means I want you dropping out to come see me or anything. You're better than that. Don't forget, you're orange._

_Fred's howling up at me to get moving. Apparently he can't hold down the fort on his own. I'll write you again tomorrow._

_I love you,  
><em>_George_

Sara clasped the letter to her chest, her smile the widest it had ever been this early in the morning. She missed George like crazy and knew it wouldn't get any better over time, but the letters would help. She had to remember to write him once in a while as well.

With a contented sigh, she shoved the letter and her book back in her bag. The students were filing out now, and she joined the crowd heading upstairs.

"Have a good summer?" a voice from behind her asked.

Sara turned to see Katie with a wide smirk across her face. Sara rolled her eyes.

"My summer was spectacular," she replied calmly. "And how was Germany?"

"Oh, it was amazing," Katie gushed.

It was Sara's turn to smirk. Katie told her parents that she was going to Germany to look into a potential job. But really, she had just gone to see Hans. The rest of the walk to class was spent swapping stories. They were just sitting down when Snape strode in, magically shutting the door behind him. The class fell quiet.

"With the Dark Lord prowling about now, you are all in danger," he began, looking around the room with his dark eyes. "It is my job to teach you to defend yourselves against him and his followers. You will first learn Occlumency, then we will move on to countercurses and jinxes. As this is your final year here—"

A pounding on the door interrupted him. He turned to look at something on his desk before continuing with his lecture. The person knocked once more, but Snape completely ignored it this time. The person on the other side seemed to take the hint and go.

"You have all been assigned partners for the day," he held up a piece of parchment.

He began to read off the names and the students moved to sit with their partners. Snape seemed as if he wanted to make everyone in the room suffer with the list. No one was paired up with anyone they found even remotely likeable. Sara groaned inwardly when he read her name alongside Darren Urquhart, the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. He smirked as she took her seat next to him, staring straight ahead and trying to ignore the fact that he was leering at her.

"As you should have learned last year, Occlumency is a very valuable skill," Snape began.

Sara rolled her eyes. What they had learned last year? They hadn't learned a single thing from Umbridge, and he very well knew that.

"What is the purpose of Occlumency?" he asked, scanning the room.

After a few moments of eerie silence, Sara raised her hand. Snape flicked his eyes toward her. After six years with him, she knew that was the only acknowledgement she would receive.

"Occlumency is closing one's mind off against someone who is trying to enter it. It keeps them from accessing and influencing your thoughts and feelings."

"If taken by the Dark Lord, he will attempt to use Legilimency on you. This is the act of peering into your mind and influencing your thoughts. A good Occlumens will be able to keep him from forcing you to perform things you do not wish to do. A great Occlumens will keep him away from certain thoughts. And someone with abilities that rival his own will be able to keep him out altogether."

No one else in the classroom seemed to notice that he referred to Voldemort as "The Dark Lord." This was merely out of habit, as Snape had been a Death Eater in his younger years. Sara had learned this when Cedric was killed.

"You will be practicing this on one another," he was saying as Sara returned to his lecture. "Though it is not the same caliber as if the Dark Lord was attempting to penetrate your mind, it's a start. While one of you attempts to resist, the other will attempt to penetrate the mind using the spell _Legilimens. _Get to work."

Sara rolled her eyes and turned to Urquhart, who didn't even bother to remove his eyes from their current location at her chest.

"You want to go first?" she asked.

He looked up at her with that same smirk.

"Yeah, alright."

"Well, clear your mind then," she ordered, raising her wand.

He closed his eyes and concentrated hard. With a flick of her wrist, Sara muttered _"Legilimens" _and was immediately inside his mind. She saw him in front of Snape's desk, beaming with pride as he asked him to be captain of the Quidditch team the year prior. She saw him opening up his O.W.L. results and looking disappointed. She saw him at 11, wrapped in his mother's arms and holding his Hogwarts letter. Finally, she dropped her wand and released his mind. It took her a moment to realize that Snape was standing next to her, looking down at her like a vulture.

"Mr. Urquhart, it is your turn," he stated, not looking away from Sara. "Attempt to penetrate Ms. Roth's mind."

Urquhart raised his wand and muttered the spell. His face was screwed up in concentration once again. Sara merely looked at him with an almost bored expression.

"I can't do it," Urquhart finally muttered, dropping his wand to his side.

"Shame," Snape muttered, moving on to the next group.

Sara spent the rest of the class gazing around and watching the others try to use Legilimency on one another. They seemed to be trying much harder than she had, and were also working much harder to keep their opponents out of their minds. She heard Urquhart next to her occasionally trying to spell again, as if he was looking to catch her off guard.

Sara could only assume this was along the lines of why the Imperius curse didn't affect her and why she had healing powers that no one else seemed to naturally possess. She probably would never understand it—then again, it wasn't like Voldemort was trying to peer into her mind, and maybe it would be different then.

After her break was Transfiguration, which she could have slept through. It was basically a repeat of the first day of last year—Conjuration. She quickly summoned a quill and parchment from nowhere and spent the rest of the class bored. If this was the way the rest of the year was going to go, her time would have been better spent at the twins' shop.

As if sensing her boredom, McGonagall called for Sara to stay after class. When the other students had cleared out, McGonagall look at her curiously.

"Have you decided what you'd like to do when you've finished school?" she asked.

"Well, I'd like to save the world, or save lives or something," she smiled, recycling George's words.

"Goodness knows the world needs some saving," McGonagall mumbled.

"I really don't know what I want to do though," Sara admitted with a shrug.

"I'd like to challenge you this year, Ms. Roth. I can tell that my lessons will not be enough. Is there something you wish to learn that I can teach you?" she asked, folding her hands on her desk.

"Well, actually… There might be something," Sara muttered, a light bulb flickering in her head.

"That's a good girl," McGonagall nodded, showing Sara one of her rare smiles.

She set up a few extra lessons with McGonagall that would take the place of a few classes before heading off to lunch. After lunch was Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, two of her least favorite classes—probably because she wasn't naturally very good at them like with the others. She trudged down to dinner that night exhausted and starving. She plopped down next to Katie without a word and piled food onto her plate.

"Be glad you aren't taking Divination anymore," Katie blanched. "Trelawney's only gotten battier, and she smells like sherry."

"I always hated it up in that tower too," Sara added as she began to eat.

"Want to work on Snape's assignment tonight?" Katie asked, adding another helping on green beans to her plate.

"Oh god," Sara groaned, remembering that they had to write an essay on the exact methodology of Occlumency by Wednesday. "I think I'm going to die of homework overload before this year is over."

"You and me both," Katie nodded in agreement.

The next day was better for Sara though. She started out with a double Charms lesson and was one of only three people in the class who managed to multiply the stones they'd received with the Geminio curse. After lunch was a nice break, then Potions. She and Katie headed down there together, not feeling the dread that usually came with heading down to the dungeons. When they entered, a slew of smells assaulted them. In the air hung a thin mist that was usually the product of simmering cauldrons.

"Miss Roth!" a booming voice called to her as she took her seat.

"Professor Slughorn," she greeted him as he stopped in front of her.

"Glad to see you advancing as far as your mother," he nodded approvingly. "We'll just have to see if you've inherited her talent along with her looks."

"Is that a challenge, sir?" Sara asked coyly.

"If you're up to it," he winked.

When he turned away, Katie flashed Sara a confused look. Sara just waved it off. They took a seat at one of the tables with the simmering cauldrons. Its smell seemed to draw them both to it.

"What is this?" Katie asked, leaning forward and peering into the cauldron, a look of contentment crossing her face.

"It must be… Amortentia," Sara sighed happily. "It's a love potion."

"It smells so…" Katie sighed in a similar fashion, not finishing her sentence.

They both sat there, completely enamored with the fragrances. Sara didn't notice someone come up behind her.

"Thinking about me, love?"

She jumped in her seat and turned to see Jason leaning over her.

"I'm sure you'd love that," she rolled her eyes.

Jason took the seat on Sara's left, acknowledging Katie with a nod. They were on competing Quidditch teams, so their relationship was cordial but slightly tense. Sara had to hold in her groan when Cormac took the final seat across from her.

"Afternoon, all," he greeted them.

"Hello, Cormac," Sara grimaced.

"Everyone have a good summer?" he asked. "I know I did, my—"

"Welcome, students, welcome," Slughorn's voice boomed around the room.

Sara, Katie, and Jason all sighed with relief as Cormac quieted, the sound of his voice drowned completely out.

"If you all would take out your scales and potion kits, and your books as well, we can get started," he clapped his hands together jovially. "As you all have likely noticed, at each of your tables is a different potion. By the end of the year and before you take your N.E.W.T.s you should be able to make them all. Would anyone like to take a guess of what they are?"

Sara waited her standard moment before lazily raising her hand.

"Ah, Miss Roth. A brave soul, let's have a go," Slughorn nodded.

"The clear one over there is Veritaserum, it's a truth-telling potion," she gestured to the one she last remembered being fed to Barty Crouch two years ago. "The muddy one is Polyjuice Potion, which allows the drinker to take on the appearance of whomever's hair is added to it. And this one here," she turned to the potion at their table, "is Amortentia. It's the most powerful… love potion… in the world," she trailed off, taken by the smell once more.

"And might I assume you're a bit smitten, Miss Roth? You seem rather taken by the smell," Slughorn asked with a knowing tone.

"Yes, that's right. It smells differently to each person, depending on what attracts you."

"Most spectacular, Miss Roth. Coming up on your mother's coattails already. Twenty points for Gryffindor," Slughorn beamed. "But you all must remember that Amortentia will not create love, no, that is impossible. It causes intense desire, even obsession. Incredibly dangerous. Now, Miss Roth, if I may ask, do you know what this one is?" he asked, gesturing to a black cauldron on his desk.

"I… I believe… I could be wrong, but it appeared to be… Felix Felicis," she stammered.

"Excellent, excellent!" he exclaimed. "Better known as liquid luck, it is a devil to make, let me tell you. It provides the drinker with an inordinate amount of luck. All your endeavors will succeed until the effects wear off. But don't drink too much, or it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence. There is such thing as too much of a good thing, you know. I've taken it only twice in my life and had two perfect days. And for whomever manages to brew our potion today successfully will receive on bottle of it."

Every head in the class perked up. They could all do for a bit of good luck, especially in this final year of school, and then going out into the real world. Jason's hawk-like eyes were zeroed in on Slughorn. Cormac was on the edge of his seat.

"If you turn to page 86, you will see instructions for drafting an Ageing Potion. You all have until the end of class. Begin!"

Sara was glad for the scraping of cauldrons across the tables, as they covered up the sound of her laughter. An ageing potion would always remind her of Fred and George in their long grey beards. Trying to cover up her giggles, she flipped open her book and began to take out the necessary ingredients. Set the cauldron to heat. Added the syrup of hellebore. Mashed up the banana. Steeped the mint leaves. Shredded the snake. Combined it all in the cauldron. Stirred it clockwise, lifting the spoon out of the liquid as she did so.

"Damn it!"

She looked up quickly to see Cormac's potion boiling over the side of his cauldron. It was a hot pink color, while hers was blood-orange.

"What a shame," Slughorn shook his head, drawing up to their table. "Better luck next time, son. You'll have to put this down before you can clean it up though."

He handed Cormac a can of powder and moved around the table. He grimaced slightly while passing Katie, and nodded approvingly when peeking into Jason's cauldron.

"Ah, very nice," he said as he drew up to Sara. "Perfect shade, the smoke is in tendrils… You did inherit your mother's talent, didn't you?"

"Thank you, sir," she blushed.

Three more potions bubbled over and one caught fire before Slughorn called for them to stop. He seemed to rather quickly make his way around the room, stopping last at Sara's cauldron.

"I do believe we have a winner. A perfect Ageing Potion! The best I've seen in years. Here you are, my dear, well earned."

Sara took the small vial, well aware of the envious eyes on her. As she cleaned up her supplies, the possibilities of what she could use the potion for swam through her head.

"Ohh, you're so lucky," Katie lamented as they made their way up to dinner. "What I wouldn't give for a bottle of luck. What are you gonna do with it?"

"I'm not sure. I can't use it for anything big. Maybe I'll just plan something extravagant with George and drink it. That way everything will work out perfectly," she suggested.

"Ugh, you two are so perfect, it's almost disgusting," Katie groaned.

"You and Hans are almost worse!" Sara argued, remembering how handsy they had been when they'd come to the shop over the summer.

"Yeah, but we fight and stuff. We argue, sometimes for days, then we make up," Katie explained. "You and George are just… Merlin, you're like soul mates!"

"I've never really thought about it that way," Sara pondered.

She sat down that night to write a letter to George. She figured she probably owed him one after he followed through on his promise two days in a row. She sat at one of the tables in the library with Katie while she set to making up some bullshit for Divination. After thinking for a moment, Sara dipped her quill and ink and began to write.

_Dear George,_

_It's literally been two days since I've seen you, and it already feels like it's been a century. I'm sorely tempted to drop out now and just live with you. Disagree all you want, but you probably wouldn't turn me away if I showed up on your doorstep. Fred might, but you wouldn't last five minutes._

_Cormac is not the Head Boy (thank Merlin). It's Jason Samuels, he's in Ravenclaw. I think you probably know him from Quidditch. He's not the worst company I could have asked for you. He's kind of like if I mixed you and Fred together with more snide comments. He keeps me entertained, at least._

_You won't believe it. Snape is the new DADA professor this year. I can't believe Dumbledore finally gave him the job. It's baffling. There's a new Potions professor. His name is Slughorn. He was Potions master when my mom and dad were in school. Probably yours too! I'll have to ask one day. He seems to have taken a liking to me already, apparently my mom had a real knack for Potions. He says I've inherited her talent. I won a bottle of liquid luck today because I brewed the best potion. If you're nice to me, I'll share some._

_I bet the shop is just falling to pieces without me there. You and Fred are probably dying of boredom too. Try not to let missing me deter you from your work._

_George,  
><em>_I miss you so much. It's actually a bit unsettling how much I miss you. I keep thinking of things I want to tell you, then realize you're not here and I can't do that. I miss you in a more… Personal way too. I'll have to help myself out on that one tonight, and I'll be thinking of you every second._

_I want it to be October already so that I can see you again. Give Fred my love._

_I miss you._

_I love you,  
><em>_Sara_


	35. Special

During the second week of classes, the realization hit Sara that she would have to study for her N.E.W.T.s until it killed her. And that would be piled on top of Head Girl duties, working in the Hospital Wing, classes, and extra lessons with McGonagall. What was more, Slughorn had approached her after a lesson and asked if she would be willing to tutor a few students struggling in the lower levels of Potions. She had agreed before realizing how busy she would actually be. So there was that too. Not to mention setting aside a little time every few nights to send a letter to George so he knew she was still alive.

The second weekend of school, Sara was invited to a dinner hosted by Professor Slughorn. She was loath to attend, trying to bury herself in work, when she was dragged from the common room by Jason.

"If I have to go, you have to go," he said as he pulled her down the corridor.

"But I'm not dressed for a nice dinner," she lamented, taking note of her jeans and baggy grey sweater.

"We're popping in for a visit and a quick bite, not a ball."

Slughorn's office was rather remarkable compared to the other teacher's offices. It had a high domed ceiling, and an ornate chandelier hung from it. The walls were decorated in gold and silver hangings, very ornate yet simple. There was a large round table, around which dinner had already started.

"Mr. Samuels, Miss Roth!" Slughorn boomed from his seat at the table. "Welcome! Join us, please!"

As she took a seat next to Hermione, she was glad to see that she was not underdressed. Hermione, Ginny, and Blaise were in very similar outfits. Cormac was in khakis. Everyone else was in what could be called business-casual—except for Melinda Bobbin, who was wearing a dress one might wear to a ball.

"Please, dig in," Slughorn gestured to the dishes on the table as he took a bite of his own food.

Sara was glad that she hadn't stuffed herself at dinner. All of the dishes were laden with the richest foods Sara had ever seen. Golden brown birds she was certain she didn't know the name of, exotic-looking vegetables of every color imaginable, desserts made of chocolate, fruit, and even one on fire. She took a little bit of each and dug in, listening to the chatter around her.

She learned that Melinda was from a small family. Her parents owned a chain of apothecaries, including the one in Diagon Alley. She was incredibly quiet, but Slughorn seemed to find it endearing, as he laughed jovially at something Sara couldn't hear. She also got to hear about Blaise's newest stepfather. He worked for the Ministry in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. She also got to hear Hermione attempt to explain dentistry to those who were not familiar with it. She had to hold in a chuckle when Slughorn asked Ginny and Dean about their budding relationship. Ginny turned a violent shade of scarlet, and Dean looked almost sour. Slughorn had no way of knowing that hours earlier, they had been locked in a shouting match.

"And what about you two?" Slughorn asked as he turned toward Sara and Jason. "You two are rather close. Head Boy and Girl, and all. Something more going on?"

"Absolutely not," Sara chuckled.

"She wishes," Jason smirked.

"Hardly," Sara scoffed.

"Sara's been dating my older brother for almost two years now," Ginny jumped in.

"Oh-ho!" Slughorn exclaimed. "Still in school?"

"No, he and his twin brother own a new joke shop in Diagon Alley. I worked there this summer."

"Wonderful," he said cheerily, turning to Cormac to discuss his uncle.

Sara was distracted as her empty plate was pulled away from her by knobbly hands. She looked over to see—

"Kreacher!"

The aged house elf looked up at her, widened his eyes, and dropped into a low bow.

"Good evening, young mistress," he mumbled to the floor.

"What on earth are you doing at Hogwarts?" she asked.

"Kreacher was sent here after his old master's death. Now Kreacher works in the kitchens."

"Oh," she nodded. "Well, thank you for all the work you do. We all appreciate."

Kreacher was still staring at the ground, immobile. Sara watched him as he slowly lifted his head to stare at her once more.

"The young mistress is too kind. Just as her mother was."

He took her plate and scooted off to collect the others. Sara looked up to see Hermione watching her curiously. Sara just shrugged and attempted to return to the conversation, but her mind was on her mother now. She knew that they looked strikingly alike—from the blonde curls to the emerald eyes. How could she have gotten her mother's kindness though? She had never known her mother, and kindness wasn't really something you inherited like eye color or height, was it? She had never been more jealous of the people who had known her mother. People who has been allowed to spend more than a year of unremembered life with her. People who had been allowed to see her kindness firsthand…

Before Sara knew it, it was October. Professor McGonagall informed Sara and Jason that there would be a Hogsmeade trip, and they would be required to attend. As Head Boy and Girl, one of them would need to be present for the releasing of students in the morning and the other for the corralling of them in the evening. The only thing that allowed Sara to wrench herself from her bed at 8 that morning was the promise that George would be meeting her there. As soon as she had learned that there would be a Hogsmeade day, she had written him, and been sent back a very earnest reply.

So, Sara threw herself in the shower, thinking only of George and how much she had missed him over the last month and a half. Thirty minutes later, she slunk into the Great Hall hungry and in need of caffeine. She was bundled up in two sweaters, a vest, jeans, winter boots, a scarf, hat, and gloves. She took a seat at the Gryffindor table and poured herself a cup of hot coffee, trying to ignore the chatter around her as she stole a spare copy of the _Prophet _from a few seats over.

It was the same as it was everyday. The front page and many subsequent pages were all about the most recent Death Eater attacks. However, one in particular stuck out to Sara. A small headline on the fourth page read "Malfoy questioned for information." The article said that Narcissa had been taken in for questioning a few days prior. She hadn't revealed anything prudent, but the fact that they were onto the Malfoys was a start.

Sara had also taken to scanning the Obituaries, just in case, and her eyes halted on a name: Nastia Isator. Isator was certainly not a common name. Could this be a relation of Ivan's? She vowed that she would write him to see. It had been too long since she'd heard from him anyway. He'd gotten a job working in Romania with Charlie, though she was sure a letter from her wouldn't be unwelcome.

She noticed students were staring to file out of the Great Hall, so she grabbed a muffin and made her way to the oak front doors. Filch was there waiting with a clipboard in one hand and a Secrecy Sensor in the other.

"You'll be checking off the names as they come," he grumbled, passing the clipboard. "I'll be out here making sure they're not taking anything out that they shouldn't be."

Sara nodded dutifully, turning toward the growing line of students. She left unasked the question most on her mind: what could be so illegal that they had managed to get it in but weren't allowed to take it out?

It was more than an hour and a half later that Sara finally passed the clipboard back to Filch and headed off toward Hogsmeade. He hadn't bothered to scan her, though she wasn't taking anything illegal with her anyway. She made the trot down the hill in record time, scanning the crowd of people as she approached. Finally, she spotted a tall head of orange hair that she could recognize in a heartbeat.

"George!" she exclaimed, now flying down the path.

The orange head turned, revealing George's smiling face. He barely had time to brace himself before Sara flew into his arms. Her lips covered his in a heated kiss, their tongues twining in a familiar dance. They didn't care about the eyes, the people whispering behind their hands. When they pulled back, he leaned his forehead against hers.

"I'll never be able to put into words how much I've missed you," he mumbled.

"I've never been more bored in all my years at Hogwarts," she smirked.

"I'm getting sentimental and you're cracking jokes?"

"Merlin, I think we've changed places!"

George returned her to the ground, but their fingers locked as they made their way to the Three Broomsticks.

"Tell me something I might not know yet," he said.

"Hmmm," Sara pondered, racking her brain. "I've told you almost everything… Oh! I've been taking special lessons with McGonagall! And I don't have to go to Transfiguration as often."

"What are the lessons for?"

"That's a surprise," she winked.

"Come on…"

"Nope."

The pub was crowded as ever. Sara and George were like vultures, clutching their drinks tightly and scanning the room for anyone who looked like they might be ready to vacate a table. She smirked when she noticed Jason sitting with a Hufflepuff girl, her fingers tracing over his hand. He seemed almost disinterested. Their eyes met across the pub, and he winked. She rolled hers. He muttered a quick word to the Hufflepuff before leaving her sitting at the table, her eyes wide.

"What did you say to her?" Sara asked as he drew up to them.

"That she wasn't going to be able to sleep her way to the top in life and she shouldn't start with me," he replied coolly.

"Is that really what she wanted?" Sara quirked an eyebrow.

"She told me she'd do _anything _for some help with Astronomy. Which really means she'll shag me if I write a few papers for her."

"I don't think Astronomy would really be worth _anything_," Sara mused. "I think that would be more along the lines of Arithmancy or something."

"Are you asking for me to give you a little help with that tonight?" Jason retorted with a sly smirk.

"Don't push it," Sara warned. "You remember my boyfriend, George?"

"Pleasure," both replied coldly.

They each extended hands for a terse handshake. Sara could literally feel the testosterone they were giving off. She was relatively surprised they didn't start ruffling their feathers for a fight.

"Oh, look, a table!" Sara exclaimed, noticing a few Ravenclaw girls bustling away. "See you back at school, Jason!" she called as she pulled George behind her.

"What was that all about?" George asked as they sat down, just beating two Slytherins to the table.

"What was what all about?"

"All… _That_," he mad a wild gesture with his hands.

"_That _was just Jason being an idiot. He's always an idiot. I keep him in check though," she replied as she sipped at her drink.

"So he always asks you to sleep with him then?"

"He wasn't asking me to sleep with him," Sara corrected. "He was being stupid. He knows nothing will happen between us because I'm with you."

"Something tells me you're being too naïve about him."

"He's harmless!"

"He's a pig! And you're letting your guard down around him!"

"George, please. I don't want to do this. I've missed you."

"I… I've missed you too," he sighed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "It's hard not being with you everyday."

"I've talked to guys before. Ivan, and Cedric… What's so different about this one?"

"There's nothing different about them," George admitted. "They all… They all wanted you. Want you. I don't really know why you picked me, but—"

"George," she interrupted, leaning across the table and covering his hand with hers, "I picked you because I loved you. It wasn't a lottery. I didn't throw a bunch of names in a hat and pick yours at random. I love you, George. Do you really think Jason Samuels, who flirts with anything that's got a heartbeat and a chest, is going to change my mind?"

"I just… I missed you," he looked into her eyes.

"I missed you too. That's why I write you. No matter how busy I am."

"Have you been getting my letters?" he asked.

"Every single day," she smiled. "They make the morning so much less miserable."

"I'm glad."

"Enough about Jason. I want to hear about the shop."

They spent the rest of their time in the pub talking about new products, how to more efficiently do inventory, Sara's complex accounting (and how George was not doing as well as he'd hoped at learning her skills), and the increased sales. Sara loved how excited George got when he talked about the shop. In return, Sara spoke animatedly about her lessons, about being Head Girl, and about how busy she'd gotten. They didn't realize how long they'd been sitting there until Madame Rosmerta approached their table.

"I'd love to let you lot sit here and look all misty-eyed at each other all night, but students have to be headed back now," she said in passing.

"Is it really that late already?" George said as he looked at his watch. "Blimey."

"I don't want you to go," Sara pouted.

"I don't want to go," he replied. "But you'll have another trip here next month, and before you know it you'll be headed home for Christmas."

"Will you keep writing me?"

"Everyday, love," he promised.

They made their way outside, avoiding the already drunk customers, into the brisk October air.

"A month is going to go by so fast," she whispered, trying more to convince herself than George.

"Maybe we'll be able to do something a little more exciting," he said as he leaned over and captured her lips again.

Her fingers twined through his hair, clinging to him as tightly as she could. He pulled away, leaving a small peck on her nose. She smiled, trying to savor the feeling of having him so close.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too."

He pulled away from her grasp, and with one last longing look, disappeared with a crack. Sara sighed shakily, trying to ignore the tiny piece of her heart breaking at his sudden absence. Still, she knew this was for the best. She wanted more for herself than working in the shop for the rest of her life. She had dreams, ambitions. It was her future.

"It's for the best," she sighed once more.

The fastest way back to the school was through the alley behind the Three Broomsticks. Even if she was a couple of minutes late, she could just say she was making sure no students were hanging behind. She ducked behind the alley, trying to ignore just how ominously dark it was. Her pace quickened with every step. Something felt wrong. Eyes. Watching…

Then she saw it—a figure, stepping out from around the corner. It was a hooded figure, a man judging by his height. Sara was unprepared. She stuffed her hand into her coat pocket for her wand, but her fingers had barely closed around it when the man raised his own.

_"Crucio!"_ he snarled.

Sara braced herself, but the pain never came. She opened her eyes and saw the figure writhing on the ground. His hood had fallen, revealing a face she didn't know. He was screaming, as if the attack had somehow been aimed at him instead. Sara was frozen. She couldn't move. So, she did the only thing she could think of. She screamed. A long, loud, piercing scream that echoed off the walls.

Distant footsteps, then a door just ahead of her opened to reveal the proprietor of The Hog's Head, the pub they had gathered at for their DA meeting last year.

"What are you shouting on about?" he barked.

Sara raised her finger and pointed to the man on the ground. He made no noise now, but his mouth was open in a silent scream and he continued to writhe, as if the pain was too much.

"What on earth?" he gasped.

"He… He attacked me," Sara murmured. "But, it didn't really work."

"I can see that," the man nodded. "Can you stay here with him just a moment? He's rather detained."

"I… I suppose," Sara replied hesitantly.

The man disappeared from the doorway but left it open, leaving Sara alone with her writhing assailant.

"What did you do?" she asked, knowing full well that he couldn't answer.

Sara nearly jumped out of her skin when another crack echoed through Hogsmeade. This time, however, it was Dumbledore. Though he looked tired, he was as gallant as ever.

"A damsel in distress. And what seems to have happened here?" he queried.

"He attacked me," Sara replied.

"And yet he is the one writhing in pain?" Dumbledore noted as he leaned down next to the stranger.

"He tried to… To use the Cruciatus Curse on me," she said tentatively. "I mean, I think he tried to. He said the words, but… It was as if his wand was facing the wrong way or something, because I think it got him instead."

"This man is a Death Eater," Dumbledore said as he rose to his full height.

Images flashed through her mind—of Barty Crouch leering at her and licking his lips hungrily, and of those men blasting curses off of her friends as if they were nothing, and of Rodolphus killing her mother and telling her she was next. They made her shiver audibly.

"What does he want with me though?" Sara asked.

"Perhaps we could speak more privately, my dear," Dumbledore suggested. "If you would."

He held his good arm out for her, and she took it gratefully. He also slid his foot over so it was in the crook of the Death Eater's arm. With a crack, they disappeared. Compressing through space. Sara could feel her head pressurizing. Finally, they reappeared in a place Sara had seen only once before: Dumbledore's office.

"My dear, I'm afraid I must dispose of this gentleman," Dumbledore gestured to the Death Eater with a nudge of his foot. "Might I ask you to wait here while I see to his arrest? I won't be long."

"Of course, sir."

"Right. Won't be long," he repeated before disappearing once more.

Sara took a seat on one of the armchairs before his desk. She looked around the curious room, still taken in by it. The first time she had been up here was the night Voldemort had returned. She and Harry had come here rather than the hospital wing to heal his arm. That night seemed so long ago. She had to bite back the tears for Cedric.

A noise at her shoulder brought her back to reality. She turned to see scarlet feathers—a great plume of them—right up against her. Connected to the exquisitely long neck was a strange yet beautiful face. Sara was entirely captivated by it.

"Aren't you the most breathtaking thing I've ever seen," she marveled.

The phoenix cooed—no, cooed was not a suitable word for it. It was as if the bird was singing in that short noise. But Sara could tell that it was happy. She raised her hand to it, and the bird leaned forward into her touch. Its feathers were soft as velvet. Sara was so enthralled with the bird that she didn't object when it hopped into her lap and nestled down. The minutes passed quickly, and soon Sara was startled by the crack indicating Dumbledore's return.

"I have personally escorted him to Azkaban," Dumbledore assured her as he took a seat behind his desk.

"Forgive me if my fears aren't totally appeased," Sara replied tartly. "I'm sorry, but Azkaban is becoming less and less of a deterrent lately."

"Wise beyond your years, and too right you are, my dear," he said gravely.

"Who was he?"

"His name was Octavian Casarack. A Death Eater."

"What did he want with me?"

Dumbledore merely stared at her for a moment before smiling weakly, his eyes tired behind his glasses.

"Fawkes seems to have taken quite a liking to you," he noted. "He will not get so close to just anyone."

"He's beautiful," she looked down at the phoenix, now dozing peacefully under her touch.

"My dear, you are special," Dumbledore mused, staring intently at her.

"No, I'm not," she scoffed.

"But you are."

Sara looked up, taken aback by the seriousness of his tone.

"But… why?" she asked.

"There is no rhyme or reason for it, you simply are. And it cannot be ignored any longer…" He paused, staring intently at her. She had never seen him look so serious. "Sara, you are in danger."

"What do I do?" she asked.

"Inside the walls of this school, you are safe. We have some time. There are things you must come to know about yourself. Things that will save your life."

"What are they?"

"That, I cannot tell you," he sighed. "For even I have not figured it all out. There are scattered pieces that I cannot myself decode. But I have provided you with what I believe to be adequate sources to begin."

"But sir—"

"These sources have not all come through me, but perhaps through _gifts _of some sort," he looked at her over his glasses.

Sara stared at him, entirely confused. Gifts? When had she received a gift that she hadn't really understood?

"Oh!" she exclaimed, realization dawning on her. "Christmas!"

Dumbledore simply smiled encouragingly.

"So then the—"

Sara was interrupted when the door burst open, Professor McGonagall stalking into the office.

"Headmaster, I— oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," she said brusquely. "I suppose I should inform you both of this, though. It appears that Miss Bell has been cursed."

"Katie!" Sara exclaimed.

"She was found with a cursed necklace. She is at St. Mungo's now."

"Where did this necklace come from?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Its origin is… Eh-hem… Unknown," she replied tersely.

"Oh? Your hesitance says otherwise."

"Potter seems to believe that Mr. Malfoy is the culprit. However, he has no proof," McGonagall explained.

"Miss Roth, I believe that will be all for tonight."

Sara was startled, taken aback by the immediate shift in conversation.

"Of course, sir. Thank you for helping me tonight," she nodded.

Fawkes almost knowingly awoke and fluttered out of Sara's lap, landing deftly on his perch behind Dumbledore's desk. Professor McGonagall smiled weakly at Sara as she passed. She was about to close the door behind her when Dumbledore spoke.

"Don't forget the Christmas gifts, my dear."

"Yes sir, thank you," she replied, closing the heavy oak door.

Sara headed back to the Head corridor slowly, suddenly very worried about Katie. She'd been found with a cursed necklace? And what made Harry think that Draco was involved? He was sometimes one to jump to conclusions, but Sara knew something that most people did not: Draco was already a Death Eater. Narcissa had let it slip, and there was no forgetting it. If he was truly the one responsible for the necklace, then for whom was it meant? Probably not Katie, that's for sure. She made a mental note to ask McGonagall if or when she'd be able to visit Katie.

She returned to the Head corridor, giving a hasty hello to Jason before heading up to her room. Her mind was on a different track now. She flipped open the lid of her trunk and reached inside. When she felt her fingertips brush something warm, she knew that was it. She scooped the object up and pulled it from the trunk. The words _A Genealogy of Healing_ were emblazoned in gold letters over the cover. While at Grimmauld Place, she had perused it, but had never really taken the time to read it. How had Dumbledore even known that she'd gotten it? And what did it have to do with this?

"Any chance you want to write an astronomy essay?" Jason asked her as she descended from her room.

"Not a chance in hell, actually," she replied, flopping down on one of the squishy armchairs.

"I'll provide you with sexual favors."

"Tempting, but I'll have to decline," she said as she flipped the book open. "By the way, thanks for flirting with me in front of my boyfriend, really top notch."

"Anytime, doll."

She spent the next two hours skimming the entire book. It was incredibly interesting. It detailed all of the different types of healing that had occurred throughout the ages, from ancient herbal recipes to spells to "modern" muggle methods. About halfway through the book, notes were scrawled across the margins, and some sections were underlined as well. She began to delve into the story of the woman whose healing abilities were strikingly similar to hers. This woman was born with healing powers that didn't require the use or wands of herbs. She simply used her energy.

"What are you doing?"

Sara looked up to find Jason behind her staring down at her book, his brow furrowed.

"Um, just reading," she replied.

"Reading what? Blank pages?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"Those pages are blank, there's nothing written there," Jason said.

"Seriously?" Sara looked back down at the book.

To her, the two pages open were full of words, a few notes scrawled in the margins, and even an illustration of a wound.

"They're not blank," she said as she looked back up at him.

"Whatever, but they most certainly are," Jason grumbled. "I'm going up to bed. Feel free to come up if you get lonely."

"Goodnight, Jason," Sara ignored his comment, returning to staring curiously at the book.

Dumbledore had known that this book would give her some sort of valuable information. But he had also said that there were scattered pieces that he couldn't quite decode. The fact that Jason couldn't see the writing in the book didn't necessarily mean that Dumbledore couldn't either… Did it?

Sara closed the book and leaned back on the couch. This was too much. She closed her eyes and thought of George, now tucked safely back in his shop. He had no idea the danger she had been in. With some resolution, she decided it wasn't worth it to worry him. She was okay, and the man who had attacked her was long gone. Now that she was inside the walls of Hogwarts, she felt safer.

A loud crack caused Sara to jump to her feet, suddenly on high alert. But instead of a tall and brooding stranger, Kreacher had appeared.

"Hello," she smiled, trying to slow her heart rate back to normal.

"Good evening, young mistress," he said as he dipped into a low bow.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Kreacher is cleaning," he replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll get out of your way," she said, grabbing her book off the couch.

"Good night, young mistress," he bowed low once more.

"Good night, Kreacher."

Sara was halfway to the stairs when a light seemed to come on in her head.

"Kreacher, did you know my mother well?" she asked.

"Kreacher knew her when she visited Grimmauld Place with her sisters and her mother. Very kind to Kreacher."

"Did she… Did she possess any strange abilities?" Sara queried.

"Once," the elf said, as if racking his brain hard, "the disowned daughter fell down the stairs. She broke her arm. But young mistress's mother fixed it without magic. Just her hands."

Sara just stared at Kreacher. Her mother had possessed the same abilities—abilities that didn't require the use or wands of herbs, just her hands. Just like the woman in the healing book.

"Good night, Kreacher," she said again as she turned back toward the stairs.

She opened up the book once more as she dropped onto her bed, back to the page she had stopped on. Next to the story of the woman with healing powers was a name—Coralina Ward—and a date—1772.

Sara's head was so full of information that she was surprised it didn't burst. She closed the book and tossed it onto her bedside table. Hours earlier, the contents of that book had meant nothing to her. Now they meant everything. Who was Coralina Ward? And, more importantly…

Sara bolted upright in her bed. She had just closed her eyes when one last thought had occurred to her. A thought from years before… It had been a letter from her father. What had it said? The Christmas gifts! They had all been things that had belonged to her mother, and they had been passed to Sara from—

"Narcissa," Sara whispered.

Narcissa had given her the book. Dumbledore had known that she had received the book. Then Dumbledore must have told her to give it to Sara. And this meant that at some point Dumbledore had gone to Narcissa, and she must have heeded his words.

And she had gone to Sara to ask her to help Draco.

Had Narcissa realized the true danger of being in allegiance with Voldemort?

Sara felt sleep tugging at the far reaches of her consciousness. She dropped back down onto her pillow and let it overtake her, her dreams filled with questions.


	36. Lessons

"Miss Roth!" Slughorn boomed jovially.

Sara started, taken aback by Slughorn's energy so early in the morning.

"Good morning, sir. I'm sorry I'm late."

Sara slunk into the dungeon, acutely aware of all the eyes on her. And with good reason—she was 20 minutes late for their lesson. Cauldrons were already simmering over their fires and people had already gathered their ingredients.

"Not to worry, my dear, not to worry," Slughorn chuckled as Sara set up her cauldron. "Actually, I wondered if I might have a word with you?"

"Of course, sir."

"Do you recall me asking you if you'd perhaps be willing to help out a few students with a bit of Potions help?" he asked as he followed her to the ingredient cupboard.

"I do," she nodded tentatively.

"Well, I've narrowed it down to just one who seems to need just a bit of motivation as of late. Would you be free to perhaps stop by tonight? Say 6:30?"

"I suppose I can."

"Wonderful!" he clapped his hands together. "You know, I have a feeling you know how to whip up a Pepper-Up potion, why don't you take the morning off."

So, Sara found herself in the Great Hall with a smattering of third years who had an early morning break. She was thankful to Slughorn, as she had woken up about 10 minutes before and had not eaten breakfast. She piled a bit of eggs and sausages on her plate and delved in hungrily.

The sound of swooping overhead drew her attention away from her food and to the two owls that landed gracefully in front of her plate.

"Two of you?" she asked curiously, unraveling the letters from both and feeding them a few nibbles of toast.

The first letter took her by surprise. It was from Ivan, in response to one she had sent him weeks before.

_Dear Sara,_

_I'm very glad to hear from you again. It has been far too long. Romania is amazing. Working with the dragons really has been one of the most wonderful things I could have ever done. Charlie has been a great mentor, and I have learned a lot from him._

_I think you (and perhaps more so George) would be glad to know that I have met the woman I intend to marry. Her name is Amelia. She works as a healer in the medical center here. She had to heal up my arm when a dragon fang ripped it open, told me that I was stupid for not paying more attention around dragons. I'd never had a woman call me stupid before, so naturally it was love at first sight. We're engaged now. I've honestly never been happier._

_It is most regrettable, but the name in the article was indeed my mother. She disappeared about three months ago. Her body was recovered near a dark mark, and as she had no injuries, it was suspected that the _Avada Kedavra _was used. She worked for our Ministry of Magic as an Unspeakable, and we think You-Know-Who may have wanted information from her. Her death really hit my father hard. But I'm doing alright_

_Keep your eye out for a wedding invitation._

_Most Sincerely,_

_Ivan Isator_

An Unspeakable's job was secret enough. No one knew what they did in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. What had Voldemort wanted from Ivan's mother? Had he really wanted anything? Was this just a statement of his power? Or had he gotten what he wanted from her and simply killed her?

A shudder passed through Sara. When had she become someone that considered motives behind a person's death before actually mourning the death? It seemed that Voldemort had that effect on the world.

She shook off the feeling of disgust and instead ripped open the letter from George. It was his typical profession of love for her, with a few choice sentences that brought a tinge of red to her cheeks. She folded it shut and tucked both of the letters into her bag, looking around to make sure no one had seen them.

That was when she noticed something very odd.

The white-blond head of Draco Malfoy had ducked into the Great Hall, keeping his face low so as to avoid the eyes of the other students. He stepped up to the Slytherin table, grabbed handfuls of fruit, and walked brusquely back out the doors. Without thinking, Sara grabbed her bag and followed him.

She kept a safe distance, making sure she stayed around corners and behind tapestries so as not to be seen. He stopped every so often—she assumed to check for anyone following him—but always resumed at a quick clip. They were to the fifth floor by the time she heard him speak.

"Has anyone come by?" he asked brusquely.

"No," a glum voice replied.

"And it should stay that way."

"No one ever sees you anyway," the deep voice grumbled.

"You were told to stand guard, weren't you?" Draco barked.

"Yes."

Without another word, she heard Draco's quick steps disappear. The deep voice mumbled about how he shouldn't have to put up with all of this. Sara would have to pass by whoever this mysterious person was to continue her pursuit of Draco, who would probably be told that she had been by—something she would rather he not know.

With a sigh, she returned back to the Head chamber, where she collapsed onto the giant couch, enjoying a short nap.

That afternoon, Snape strode in to their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, and everyone fell silent (as they always did). He turned to face them all, staring down his hooked nose at them. He looked, if anything, more sour than usual.

"Today is our final day of Occlumency. Those of you who have not been tested will be called back today. Whether you have been tested or not, pair up with one another and attempt to penetrate the mind or protect it."

Only about a fourth of the class had yet to be called, so most of the room was filled with muttering as Snape disappeared into his office.

"Marietta Edgecombe," Snape called.

The curly-haired Marietta shuffled nervously into Snape's office. Sara sat by herself in the back of the room. Since Katie had been sent to St. Mungo's, she had sat alone in most of her classes, doing her best to keep to herself. The rest of the class had quickly learned that there would be no tapping into Sara's mind, so no one even bothered anymore.

After a few minutes, Marietta edged out of the office, tears very evident in her eyes. He called Anthony Summerby in, then Jacob Summers, then Darren Urquhart. And then, finally…

"Sara Roth."

She stood from her seat and made her way into his office, closing the door behind her as the others had. His office looked as it had the past few years, though it wasn't as cold as it had been in the dungeons.

"Sit," Snape commanded.

Sara took a seat across from him. She was somewhat nervous, even though she was fairly certain she would do alright. For a full minute, he did nothing but stare at her. She was almost worried she'd done something wrong.

"You will attempt to penetrate my mind," he commanded.

"Y-yes sir," she replied.

With a deep breath, she concentrated on his face, grasped her wand tightly, and whispered, "_Occlumens._"

It was as if she had turned on a television. She was in Dumbledore's office, exactly as it had looked a few weeks before. Snape was seated in the chair across from Dumbledore's desk. The man himself was sagged in his chair, looking particularly exhausted.

"The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed," Snape muttered. "This is merely punishment for Lucius's recent failures. Slow torture for Draco's parents; while they watch him fail and pay the price."

"In short, the boy has a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have," Dumbledore said grimly. "Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself?"

"That, I think, is the Dark Lord's plan," Snape replied after a pause.

"Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will not need a spy at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore queried.

"He believes the school will soon be in his grasp, yes."

"And if it does fall into his grasp, I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students of Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked seriously.

Snape nodded stiffly.

With a jolt, Sara returned to her seat across from Snape in his office. She was certain this was a conversation she was not welcome to hear. Snape's expression was unreadable—a look of mingled fury, confusion, embarrassment, and almost a tinge of awe that she had managed to get in.

"That is all, you may go," he said tersely.

"But… But sir, don't you need to—" Sara began.

"You may go," he repeated.

Sara stood and quickly left the room, returning to her seat. Snape did not come out for the rest of the lesson, and the students shuffled out uncertainly at the bell. Sara followed the crowd down to the Great Hall for dinner, but she quickly realized she had no appetite. So, she turned to swim against the crowd and headed back to her dormitory, flinging herself down on the overstuffed couch for the second time that day.

The conversation she had witnessed in Snape's head kept replaying in hers. It seemed to be very recent. Sara had never seen Dumbledore look that exhausted before this year. Snape looked exactly same as he did now. This was not the disconcerting thing. Why did Snape know so much about Voldemort's current plans? Narcissa had not clued him in on all that, certainly.

A sick feeling filled her stomach. Snape was not as reformed as everyone thought he was.

But still, he was informing Dumbledore. A double agent—she'd read that in a spy novel. So now, Dumbledore knew that Draco was tasked to do something by Voldemort—and though she had no idea what that was, the two of them seemed to know. If he was to fail, Snape would finish the job. Whatever that job was, it would mean that Voldemort would soon control Hogwarts.

All of these thoughts swirled around in her head. They only served to make her miss George more than she already did. He was her sounding board. She talked everything out with him, and after, he always made her feel better with some joke or a kiss. But instead, she was alone, unable to stop thinking about what Draco could possibly have to do for Voldemort.

About an hour later, it was with some frustration that Sara found herself descending the stairs to the dungeons for the second time that day. It was even colder now—something she never thought possible. She crossed her arms tightly and made her way down the hall at a quick clip. The classroom door was open, so she made her way inside. She was immediately hit by a rush of heat, for which she was grateful.

What she was not grateful for was the blond head of hair belonging to Draco Malfoy that looked up as she entered.

"Welcome, Miss Roth! So glad you could come!" Slughorn roared.

"My pleasure, sir," she managed, trying to cover up her disdain.

"Well, let's cut to the chase," Slughorn said as he clapped his hands together. "Mr. Malfoy here has been struggling a bit in my class. According to Professor Snape, he's normally a wiz at Potions, so perhaps it's my teaching. Thought maybe he could get a bit of help from another very learned mind. Up for the task?"

"Sure thing, sir," she nodded dutifully.

"Wonderful. Perhaps it would be best to select something that can be brewed and completed tonight, and if all goes well, next time the potion may be a bit more complicated," Slughorn suggested. "Best of luck, I'll be in my office when you're done."

And with that, he swept from the room and closed the door, leaving Sara and Draco alone. Neither knew what to say. The tension in the room was palpable.

"You don't have to do this," Draco mumbled.

"We don't have to do anything except talk about potions," Sara corrected. "What do you want to brew?"

"We brewed a Calming Draught today and mine boiled over, I guess we can do that," he suggested.

"Get the cauldron going, I'll get what we need from the cabinet," she said shortly.

She was quick as a bird as she gathered up the supplies they needed, not wanting to spend any more time with Draco Malfoy than she needed to. She dropped the ingredients onto the table as he opened his textbook up to the appropriate page.

"What does it say to do first?" she asked.

"Grind the sea kelp into a paste," he read aloud.

"Well, get to it then."

They were mostly silent for the next half hour, speaking only when Sara asked what came next and when Draco replied. His potion looked the proper color and consistency, even smelling as Sara knew it should.

Then she noticed Draco wince in pain. He attempted to discretely rub his left arm, but there was no fooling Sara; she knew what was there.

It was when he returned to brewing the potion that Sara finally realized why he was struggling in this class. Despite the fact that he had told her moments before that the tubeworms were to be sliced lengthwise and dropped into the solution, he instead chopped them up into small pieces and tossed them into the cauldron, a vacant expression on his face.

"You know you've ruined it now," Sara pointed out.

"What?" he asked, coming out of his trance.

"I suppose you'll see soon," she shrugged.

He added the rose oil and began to stir counterclockwise. It didn't take more than 10 seconds for the potion to take on the consistency of curdled milk.

"What the fuck?" Draco exclaimed.

"When you slice the worms lengthwise, they absorb the fat from the oil, and you can pull them out after a few minutes," Sara explained. "But you chopped them up, which means they absorbed the oil in clumps, while still secreting their own innards. As I said, you ruined it. And all because you got distracted."

"I wasn't distracted, it's these books, they're so ancient, you can't even—" he tried.

"Stop making excuses," she interjected. "For the past five years you've done well at Potions. Now, some might argue you received special treatment because Snape likes to shower Slytherins with his good graces, but I have reason to believe you had a knack for this, considering you managed to pass your O.W.L.s and end up in a N.E.W.T. level class. You can't make a potion to save your damn life this year because your mind is elsewhere."

"Trying to diagnose me now, are we?" Draco spat; Sara realized that she'd struck a nerve somewhere in there. "Can't make a potion because I've got too much on my mind, is that it?"

"I think that's exactly it," Sara replied calmly.

"How dare you pretend to know about my life," he seethed. "You don't know anything about me."

Sara leaned across the table, ignoring the stench from the cauldron to her left. The expression on her face was dark now.

"I know that little mark on your arm is burning, which means your precious Dark Lord wants his minions to come running. And you're stuck here, a helpless teenager. Oh yes," she spat venom, noticing the look of shock that crossed his face as he tugged at his sleeve, "mummy came to see me over the summer, pleading for me to help her crown prince. Didn't mean to let it slip that you were one of them now."

"She had no business… No right…" his voice trailed off, significantly less full of conviction now.

"Mummy should have used her head. It's tough for me to pass on a wayward soul in need of guidance. But when I realize that soul now consorts with the people who killed my mother and so many others, I take a step back. In fact, let me make this perfectly clear: Draco Malfoy, I despise you. I detest your very existence, and the sooner your precious Dark Lord disposes of your shamble of a family, the better."

And without another word, Sara swept from the room, slamming the wooden door behind her. She stormed up the stairs, not paying attention to her surroundings. She rounded a corner and met an equally fuming Ginny.

"The next time you see Ron, I beg you to give him a punch in the jaw," Ginny grumbled.

"Only if you'll do the same to Draco Malfoy," Sara replied. "What's Ron done now?"

"Walked in on Dean and I snogging, acted like we were doing something horrifying," she complained. "Basically called me a harlot and tried to curse me!"

"That's just because he's never snogged anyone in his life."

"That's what I said!" Ginny exclaimed.

Sara couldn't help but laugh, and Ginny couldn't help but join in.

"So what's Malfoy done?" Ginny asked as they slowly headed down the hallway.

"What hasn't he done?" Sara muttered. "I know he's my cousin, but I really hate him."

"You're not alone there," Ginny reassured her.

_No, _she thought somberly, _but I'm sure not many people hate him for the same reasons I do…_


	37. Party

Sara turned to face the mirror and stared at herself for a moment. She wasn't one to admire her reflection on a regular basis, but she had to admit that she looked good tonight. The black dress was perfect, low enough to tease but still modest. She had clasped her mother's ornate bracelet around her wrist, and placed the necklace George had given her for Christmas two years ago around her neck. Her blond curls were neater than usual and framed her face elegantly. She was beautiful.

A glance at the clock told her that she was running late. She slipped into her shoes, grabbed her handbag, and stuffed her wand inside it before making her way down the staircase and out of the common room.

Her heels clicked against the stone floors as she brusquely made her way through the halls. They were very nearly empty. She stopped just before rounding the final corner, taking a second to catch her breath and fix her hair before revealing herself.

There were two people waiting for her at the foot of the marble staircase.

George and Dumbledore.

George turned at the click of her heels and stared up at her, utterly taken aback at how radiant she was. It had been months since he'd seen her, and he'd almost forgotten how beautiful he found her.

"Blimey," he murmured.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologized as she made her way down to them.

"Not to worry, not to worry," Dumbledore assured her. "Mr. Weasley and I were just discussing the shop."

"You look…" George trailed off as she stopped in front of him.

"Thanks," she smiled up at him.

"Enjoy yourselves this evening, and when the party is over, just come back to my office. We will see you off," Dumbledore said as he turned away to give them their privacy.

"Thank you, sir," they both called back.

As soon as Dumbledore had rounded the corner, George and Sara came together like magnets. Their arms twined around one another and their mouths locked together. A month apart left them craving each other. They pulled back only after running out of air.

"Everything go alright?" Sara asked as she clasped his hand tightly.

"No problems. Took the Floo network from the shop right to his office. He still had to ask me a few questions before he let me out of his office though," George explained.

"Questions?"

"To prove that I'm not someone else."

"I see," Sara nodded.

"And he really was genuinely interested in the shop, too," George added. "I gave him a little sample I had in my pocket, just a Skiving Snackbox and a set of Extendable Ears."

"You just happened to have those in your pocket?" Sara asked incredulously.

"Well, I always find stuff on me," he laughed.

George made to reach into his right pocket but seemed to change his mind, opting instead to release Sara's hand and reach into his left pocket. He pulled out a few sickles, another pair of extendable ears, a small packet of questionable sweets, and a pack of cards.

"You weren't kidding," Sara marveled at the random assortment of objects in his hand.

"Me, kid? Never."

He stuffed the trinkets back into his pocket before taking her hand again.

"I still can't believe you're here," she said with a smile.

"I can't believe they let me back in this place," he chuckled.

Suddenly, a bang from a classroom up ahead made Sara jump. Through the closed door, Peeves appeared looking malevolent as ever. The sight of George, however, seemed to stop him.

"Welcome back, Weasel!" he cheered. "Causing more mayhem and mystery?"

"As much as I can," George replied.

"It's quite droll here without you and the other Weasel," Peeves complained. "I've run out of ways to annoy Filch."

"Have you drawn moustaches on the statues?" George suggested.

A broad grin spread over Peeves's face. With a salute and bow to George, he zoomed off to find a proper drawing utensil.

"You're a legend," Sara smirked as they continued on their way.

They entered Slughorn's office, fashionably late for the affair. It was full of students, teachers, and wizards that Sara didn't know—likely Slughorn's invitees. Hanging from the high domed ceiling was a cage full of pixies that glowed red and dimly illuminated the room. Strange music issued from the corner, and house elves scuttled around with trays.

"Ah, there you are!" Slughorn boomed as he caught sight of Sara and tottered over to her. "Good evening, my dear! You look radiant as ever!"

"Thank you, sir," she smiled warmly.

"And who might this be?" he asked, looking over at George.

"This is my boyfriend, George."

"Ah, the famous boyfriend. And another Weasley, if I recall. Lovely to meet you, m'boy, lovely to meet you," he said jovially as he shook George's hand.

"Famous, am I?" George quirked a brow.

"I may have mentioned you," Sara blushed darker now.

"So sorry, chap, but it's slipped my mind what you do again. Miss Roth mentioned, but the memory of this old bird is not what it used to be."

"I own a shop with my twin brother in Diagon Alley, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. It's a joke shop," George explained.

"Oh really? And how is business?"

"Booming," George gushed. "We never thought it would take off this fast. We've actually considered expanding, it's doing so well."

"Excellent," Slughorn roared. "Well, you two enjoy the party. I've got to go mingle, you know how it is."

"Of course, sir," Sara nodded.

Slughorn bounded off, appearing behind Professor Trelawney to come to Harry's aid. However, Harry looked less than excited to see him.

"He's a character," George chuckled.

"He seems to think I'm some sort of Potions genius. Apparently my mother was too," Sara explained as she led him into the party.

George picked up two drinks off of a tray carried by a house elf and passed one to Sara. They mingled with some of the guests, meeting witches and wizards from all walks of life. They met a vampire who seemed as if he'd rather be anywhere but the party. George chatted up a witch from a Quidditch team Sara had never heard of. Sara discussed with the aged warlocks the origins of a newly-discovered set of runes in a cave in Hungary—and was rewarded for her wit with a few puffs from their pipes, which definitely did not taste like tobacco.

"Would you like to go see your sister?" Sara asked, taking another drink and gesturing across the room toward the head of long red hair.

"Why not," George shrugged, taking Sara's hand.

"You need a haircut again," Ginny sighed when she caught sight of George and Sara approaching.

"I missed you too, Gin," George laughed.

"Where's Dean?" Sara asked, noticing that they were not lip-locked for the first time in a while.

"Sulking," Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Giving him a hard time?" George jabbed.

"Hardly!" Ginny scoffed. "He acts like I'm some fragile thing who can't even walk to class without him. Honestly, I can handle my own books."

"Gin, I think he's trying to be a gentleman," George laughed.

"That's fine, be a gentleman, pull out my chair and walk me to class. _Sometimes_," she groaned. "Everyday after Transfiguration or Herbology, he's just there! I don't know how he does it, it's not like I hang around after class. Is it so much to ask that I walk to my next lesson alone or with my friends?"

"That makes sense," Sara agreed. "George was always very good at giving me space. Granted, he was causing trouble with Fred elsewhere and probably paid me little mind—"

"That is absolutely not true," George interrupted. "But I just figured you didn't need me to carry you to your next class. You'd been doing it for four years before that."

"That's all I want him to realize!" Ginny exclaimed. "Okay, at night, when I have mounds of work to do—since it _is_ my O.W.L. year and I'm balancing Quidditch and Prefect stuff alongside it—he wants to sit and talk about our day and hold my hand and look lovingly into my eyes. But honestly, I have so much work to do, I barely have time to brush my teeth, let alone fawn over him."

"You never complained when I had work to do," Sara smiled widely at George. "What a good boyfriend."

"The best," he smirked.

"God, you two are gross," Ginny rolled her eyes as George leaned down and kissed Sara softly.

Ginny's expression went from one of mock disgust to genuine shock as she looked past them. Sara and George turned to see Filch dragging Malfoy into the room by his ear. Naturally, the rest of the room had stopped to watch as well.

"Professor Slughorn, I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him an invitation?" Filch asked, almost gleefully awaiting the response.

"All right, I wasn't invited!" Malfoy grumbled, wrenching himself free from Filch's grasp. "I was trying to gate crash, happy?"

"No I'm not!" Filch shouted happily. "You're in trouble, you are! Didn't the headmaster say that nighttime prowling's out, unless you've got permission, didn't he, eh?"

"That's all right, Argus, that's all right," Slughorn conceded. "It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco."

Filch skulked away, thoroughly disappointed that another student had eluded punishment.

"Are you okay?" George asked, laying his hand on Sara's arm.

"What?" she asked, looking away from the throng of people now gathered near the middle of the room.

"You look like you're gonna kill someone," Ginny pointed out.

"Sorry," Sara said as she shook her head.

"You know, if he really wanted to come to the party, there are plenty of ways he could have gotten in. Those little Slytherins would give their arms and legs to bring Draco Malfoy as their date," Ginny noted, pointing at a pair of twins in identical garb that were the Slug Club's newest members. "Oh, I see Luna, I'm going to talk to her. I'll be back."

"Maybe that's because he wasn't coming to the party," Sara mumbled after Ginny was out of earshot.

"What do you mean?" George asked, lowering his voice as well.

"He's up to something," she whispered as she watched Draco and Snape glide from the room.

"Well, let's find out then," George suggested.

"You mean, follow them? How? They're gonna see us."

"Come on," he grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the hallway before pulling something out of his pocket.

"What is that?" she asked.

"You don't think we'd give away our most prized possession before figuring out the magic behind it, do you?" he said with a smirk.

He held up a folded piece of parchment, removed his wand from his inside jacket pocket, tapped the parchment, and muttered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Black lettering began to decorate the parchment. In slanted scrawl read the words _"Messers Primate and Bandit are proud to present to you the new and improved Marauder's Map."_

"You and Fred did this?" she questioned, amazement in her voice.

"We certainly did."

"You can magically conjure up a map of the school from scratch, and yet you only got three O.W.L.s?" she exclaimed.

"Are we really going to talk about this now?" he looked at her disdainfully. "Or are we going to find Snape and Malfoy?"

"They're all the way at the end of the corridor, here," she pointed at the last classroom at the end of the hall. "And it looks like Harry's listening in."

"He's got the right idea. Come on then," he dragged her along, the sounds of their footsteps muffled by the music from the party.

He stopped her just around the corner from the classroom, held a finger to his lips, and pulled the Extendable Ears from his pocket once more. He tossed one around the corner and held the other up so they could both listen.

"—not trying to conceal anything from _him_, I just don't want _you _butting in!" Malfoy exclaimed.

"So that is why you have been avoiding me this term?" Snape's cool voice cut in. "You have feared my interference? You realize that, had anybody else failed to be there, Draco—"

"So put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!"

"You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things," Snape muttered after a short pause.

"You'd better stop telling me to come to your office then!"

"Listen to me, I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother that I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco—"

"Looks like you'll have to break it, then, because I don't need your protection! It's my job, he gave it to me and I'm doing it, I've got a plan and it's going to work, it's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!" Draco explained.

"What is your plan?" Snape asked.

"It's none of your business!" Draco exclaimed.

"If you tell me what you are trying to do, I can assist you—"

"I've got all the assistance I need, thanks, I'm not alone!"

"You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering the corridors without lookouts or backup, these are—"

The sound of footsteps behind Sara and George made them jump. Sara grabbed George's arm and led him into the classroom nearest them. George pulled the Extendable Ears inside and Sara shut the door as quietly as possible.

"You were right, he wasn't just there for the party," George said. "But what was he doing that he would need lookouts?"

"I still don't know," Sara mumbled as she paced the room. "I caught him sneaking off the other day, but I lost him on the fifth floor. I heard him talking to someone, but I couldn't see who it was."

"So why is Snape offering to help him?" George asked.

"He's playing him," she replied.

She told him all about how she'd been able to peer into his mind and see that he'd told Dumbledore about this very plan.

"But he told Malfoy that he wasn't going to tell Dumbledore."

"Well, he did," Sara muttered.

"I can't believe Snape let him talk to him that way," George remarked.

"I wonder who else is helping him," she pondered.

She broke off as the door opened, and Jason stumbled in with a giggling fifth-year Ravenclaw girl.

"Oh," he said, noticing them. "Hope we weren't interrupting anything special."

"You're disgusting," Sara grimaced.

"We'll find another room," Jason winked, closing the door behind him as they left.

"I hate that guy," George mumbled.

Sara stepped in front of him and slid her arms up around his neck.

"Don't get jealous," she said.

"As long as he doesn't get to do this."

George leaned in and kissed her, his arms snaking around her waist. She stood on her toes to deepen the kiss, enjoying the taste of spearmint on his lips. She pulled on his lower lip with her teeth as she pulled away.

"Damnit, I miss you," he groaned.

"I'll be on the train back tomorrow morning," she said.

"Not sure I can wait that long," he said as he buried his face in her neck.

She bit her lip, enjoying the feel of his breath on her skin.

"Lock the door," she whispered.

George reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand, flicked it at the door, and it locked with a click.

About an hour later, Sara and George took the stairs up to Dumbledore's office slowly, trying to draw out their separation as long as possible.

"I feel like my hair gives the game away," Sara grumbled, trying to tame it with her hands.

"Wear that sex hair high and proud," George chuckled.

Sara slapped him on the arm, and he laughed harder. They approached the stone gargoyle, and Sara mumbled "Salt-water taffy." It sprang to life and jumped aside, the wall behind it opening to reveal the spiral staircase. They took it to the top, and Sara raised her fist to knock; however, the door swung open before her hand hit the wood.

Snape nearly ran into them in his hurry to storm out of Dumbledore's office. He looked, if possible, angrier than she had ever seen him. She and George stepped out of the way, and he barely spared Sara a glance before heading down the stairs and out of sight.

"He barely even looks at me anymore," Sara whispered to George, "not since the Occlumency thing."

"You may come in," Dumbledore called to them from inside his office.

The two entered to find Dumbledore behind his desk, looking tired. But he smiled nonetheless.

"I trust you two have enjoyed your evening," his smile twinkled, as if he knew.

George couldn't help the laugh, and Sara slapped his arm once again. Dumbledore's smile never faded.

"I believe you should be heading back now, Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore queried.

"Yes, I should," he said, leaning down and kissing Sara on the cheek. "Thank you for letting me come this evening, sir. It was a great party."

"Of course," Dumbledore nodded.

George stepped up to the fireplace, took a handful of Floo powder, and turned to look at Sara one more time.

"I'll be at the station to pick you up tomorrow," he promised.

"I'll hold you to that," Sara smiled.

He tossed the powder into the fire, causing the flames to turn green. He stepped inside, shouted "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," and disappeared in a puff of ash. Sara smiled, happy to know it wouldn't be months, but hours, before she saw him again.

"Thank you again, sir. I was glad he could be here tonight," Sara said.

"Of course."

The tone of his voice took Sara back. She turned to see that the smile was gone, replaced with a very somber look.

"Sir, is… Is everything alright?" she queried.

"Miss Roth, I believe we need to talk," he said, gesturing toward the chair before his desk.

Sara took a seat uneasily.

"Have… Have I done something wrong?" she asked.

Dumbledore did not reply. He was now staring so intently, she thought he might bore holes into her. She fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to figure out what he was doing. Finally, he blinked and looked quizzically at her.

"Professor Snape has told me what you saw during your Occlumency test," he said.

"Oh…" she replied hesitantly.

"He has also informed me that he was unable to penetrate your mind."

Sara looked very confused.

"When I asked him if he was going to try, he just told me to leave," she explained.

"Professor Snape is very good at his non-verbal spells," Dumbledore replied. "Before he even instructed you to peer into his mind, he attempted to enter yours. He was unsuccessful. As unsuccessful, I have just discovered, as I am."

That took a moment to sink in.

"You… You can't do it either?"

"It seems that way," he nodded.

"What does that mean?"

"It means," he replied, "that we have discovered yet another way that you are special. Your mind, as far as I know, is impenetrable."

They didn't speak for a few minutes. The only noises came from the instruments whirring on their shelves and Fawkes cooing in his sleep. Sara couldn't understand why these strange things kept happening to her—her healing powers, the Death Eater's curse backfiring, and now this. But something else was also bothering her.

"Sir, I know it may not be my business…" she began. "But, I can sum up that Draco is planning something. And I can only assume that you and Professor Snape know what that is."

"Indeed," he nodded, a grave expression on his face. "And you are wondering what that plot may be?"

"Well, yes," she nodded. "What could he possibly do that would basically hand the school over to Voldemort?"

"Miss Roth, I will not lie to you should you discover the truth. However, I am not at liberty to tell you. Yet."

"So, if I can figure it out, you'll tell me if I'm right?" Sara queried.

"That is correct," he nodded. "But first, I must stress the importance of what we discussed last time you were here."

Sara had nearly forgotten what they had talked about last time—her healing powers. He had reminded her of her book, and she had gone and read it that night. Then she hadn't touched it since. She felt very embarrassed.

"Is there some reason in particular that it's so important for me to understand my healing powers? Just for some reference point," she asked.

"Because, Miss Roth," he leaned forward, his face completely serious, "it might just save your life."


	38. Embarrassed

Sara was to spend her holiday break with Fred and George. She had written her father, who had replied that he was scheduled to work every day—including Christmas. They would see each other so little, it seemed silly to go back home. Liam did vow that he would stop by the Burrow when he had time, and Sara and the twins would be frequent visitors there.

On one particularly snowy morning, Sara found herself at the Burrow in an armchair by the fire, sipping tea and listening to the noises of the house. A few dishes from breakfast were washing themselves in the kitchen. Slams came from upstairs; Fred and George were cleaning their room up (magically) for the first time in years so Lupin could have somewhere to sleep. The family cat—an ancient tabby—purred on the back of the chair behind her head.

"Enjoying yourself, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she came down the stairs.

"Very much," Sara nodded.

The banging upstairs stopped abruptly, replaced by feet hammering on the stairs.

"Those boys are walking tornadoes," Mrs. Weasley sighed, rolling her eyes.

"It's their fanfare, they need to announce their entrance," Sara suggested.

Mrs. Weasley chuckled as she headed into the kitchen. Fred and George trundled down the stairs to join Sara. Fred flung himself down on the couch, while George took a seat on the arm of her chair.

"Done?" she asked, looking up at him.

"It'll do," he replied, leaning down and pecking her on the cheek.

"And now, I'm bored," Fred grumbled.

"Read something," Sara suggested.

"I don't want to be _more _bored, I want to be _less _bored," he stressed.

"You uncultured swine," she teased.

"Let's go into town," George suggested. "Could be fun."

"Mum!" Fred shouted. "We're gonna go into town!"

"Alright," she called back. "But I don't want you gone all day. And try not to wander too far. And pick up some milk as well!"

"She acts like we're still 13 years old," Fred sighed.

"She acts like a mother who cares," Sara corrected.

She headed upstairs to put some warm clothes on, stealing George's sweater, mittens, scarf, and hat—they had apparated to the Burrow today, so she hadn't dressed nearly warm enough for the walk into town. She put on her own coat and boots before heading back downstairs. She made her way into the kitchen just in time to hear George say to Harry and Ron, "We're off to the village, there's a very pretty girl working in the paper shop who thinks my card tricks are something marvelous… almost like real magic…"

"Think she'll find your girlfriend even more magical?" Sara asked as she appeared behind him. "Or would you two like a little more privacy? I can stay home if you like."

"Come off it, you flirt with the bloke at the bookshop every time we go there," George teased, pulling the hat down over her eyes.

"We weren't dating then!" she exclaimed.

"You two can stay here and squabble all day, I'm gonna go flirt with the paper girl," Fred interjected, heading out the back door.

"Come on, then," Sara said as she grabbed George's arm and followed his twin out the door.

"I'm only joking," George laughed. "I don't even know how to flirt with _you_. Nice outfit, by the way."

"Heavily borrowed from the clothes you still have here," she admitted.

"I noticed," he nodded, taking her mittened hand in his.

After a short trek through the snow, they ended up in a small village. Sara had ventured there with the Weasleys a few times over the years. Now, covered in snow and ice, it looked like it belonged in a snow globe. Everything was quaint. The buildings were a bit old, but that just added to their character. It was a muggle village, so the shops were normal. Though, if you knew where to go, there were a few wizard-owned places—like the "antique shop" nestled between the post office and the discount store, which doubled as a wizarding apothecary.

The three of them ventured into the bookstore, where, sure enough, the young man working spotted Sara immediately.

"Afternoon, miss," he smiled as he made his way over to her. "Back on holiday?"

"Yes, and I'm looking for something new, something to hold my fancy," she said as she took off her mittens and skimmed the shelves.

Sara didn't come here for the shop boy. Even if George hadn't been there with her, she didn't mean to flirt with him. She came only for the books. She wanted to lose herself in the shelves and never come out.

"Well, there's a few classics, that is, if you like the classics," he pointed toward a very battered-looking section. "Or a newer section," he gestured toward a few shelves of less worn books. "I personally love a good mystery."

"I'll just look around, I think," she smiled cordially at him.

"Let me know if you need anything," he said, almost sounding disappointed as he returned to his post behind the counter.

Sara let her eyes search the shelves. She knew of the rule not to judge books by their covers, but that was how she'd found the best of them. She pulled one from the classics with a faded red cover called _Anna Karenina_. Another she pulled from the travel section about Italy. Yet another the grabbed from the fiction section.

She happened upon the erotica purely by chance. She smiled at some of the titles—_Have Mercy, Sweet Possession, Left Breathless,_ _Sin of the Flesh._

"What's all this now?"

Sara turned to see George peering over her shoulder. Fred was aisles away, and they were out of eyeshot of the shop boy.

"Just books about fucking," she whispered.

"Oh yeah?" he smirked, quirking his eyebrow.

"Mhm," she replied coyly.

"I think maybe we should grab a few of these. You know, for research."

"I like this one," Sara reached out and grabbed one with a man clutching at a woman in a red bra. "_Bound to Please. _Sounds hot."

"Can we get this one too?" George asked, pulling another off the shelf that was titled _The Punishing Game._

"I think I can manage that," she said as she leaned back and up to kiss his cheek.

However, he turned his head just in time and captured her lips instead. It was a kiss they generally reserved for when the doors were closed and they were entirely alone. His tongue delved into her mouth, seeking out her own and teasing it. Sara couldn't help the whine that escaped. George pulled away with a smirk on his lips.

"Can't wait to read these," he said, passing her the one he'd chosen.

"Oh, I hate you," she mumbled.

"Liar," he whispered.

They made their way up to the counter and the shop boy checked the price of each book.

"Anna Karenina, not a bad pick," he noted as he shuffled through the books. "Oh, Stephen King, he's fantastic, you won't be disappointed. Italy, very nice country. And…"

His comments trailed off as he reached the last two books.

"Those are gonna be our favorites, I think," George commented.

Sara laid the muggle money down on the counter.

"Have a great day," George smiled widely, picking up the bag of books and throwing his free arm around Sara's shoulders.

"Have a nice holiday," she called to the boy as George whisked her out of the store.

"You two are embarrassing," Fred chided as he followed them outside.

"George is the embarrassing one!" Sara exclaimed, hitting him in the arm for emphasis. "Bad enough we're getting porno books, but you've got to make a show out of it!"

Fred stopped in his tracks.

"I'm sorry… Porno books?" he repeated.

"_Erotica_," George corrected smugly.

"That's enough out of you," Sara rolled her eyes.

They headed into the paper shop where, of course, the short brunette girl stood behind the counter.

"So good to see you again!" she exclaimed, smiling at the sight of Fred and George.

"Wonderful to see—hold on now," Fred said seriously as he approached the counter. "I think you've got something behind your ear."

He reached behind her head and conjured a pink flower, pulling it back for her to see. She laughed with glee.

"I love it!" she cheered.

Sara pretended to busy herself looking at the crafting supplies, attempting to ignore the giggling of the girl behind her. When they came in here, she completely understood why George was sometimes jealous of her male friends. This girl annoyed her to no end. She turned her head slightly to see the girl's hand on George's arm; though, she was relieved to see him pull back from her. She turned back to the shelves, trying to hide the smirk from them. George was many things—a comedian, a shockingly fantastic businessman, a spectacular Quidditch player, and, namely, madly in love with her. All his joking aside, this skinny girl didn't interest him in the least.

"Find anything you like?" he asked, suddenly behind her.

"Nope," she said, turning around and smiling sincerely up at him.

"You alright?" he asked quirking an eyebrow.

"I'm just glad you're my boyfriend," she shrugged.

"I feel like this might be some sort of trick," George looked suspiciously at her.

"It's not!" she laughed. "You're a good boyfriend! Better than Handsy Weasel over there."

She gestured toward Fred, who was leaning against the counter holding the girl's hand. He'd passed her the flower, and never really let go.

"He and Angelina fought right before I left to pick you up from the train station," George explained. "I'm not sure what happened after that, they haven't really talked since then."

"Wonder how he'll explain this to her."

"He probably won't," George said.

Sara looked at him very seriously. It almost startled George.

"George Fabian Weasley, you listen to me right now," she pointed a finger at him. "Anything you keep from me in our relationship is considered a lie. Even if you choose not to tell me something, it's a lie by omission. There better not be any secrets you're not telling me."

"Well, there is one thing," he said almost sheepishly, leaving Sara looking both angry and confused. "I wank while thinking about you _way _more often than you think I do."

Her face broke as she laughed. She leaned on George for support.

"Tell you what, that's the only secret I'll allow. You can have your wanking time," she said through tears of laughter.

"We're gonna be here all afternoon," George grumbled.

"I bet I can get us out of here in under 90 seconds," Sara smirked. "And I bet I can do it without Fred even realizing why."

"No way," George scoffed.

"Two Sickles," Sara said, extending her hand.

"You're on," George laughed, shaking it.

Sara turned and strode up to Fred and the brunette. The girl gave her a look that Sara was used to. She'd been all sorts of places with the twins, and that look of mingled disgust and jealousy was something with which she was very familiar.

"Fred, we have to get going," she said. "The pharmacy told us they'd have your Herpex ready by now."

"What?" Fred looked at her confused.

But the damage had been done. The girl pulled her hand back from Fred's grasp and pretended to busy herself beneath the counter, ignoring his queries.

"What the hell was that for?" Fred boomed as they headed out of the store.

"I was getting bored," Sara explained.

"What's Herpex?" George asked, handing over the two Sickles he owed her.

"It's medicine for Herpes," she explained. "Herpes is something you get from sleeping with someone else who has it. It makes you get these things called cold sores, sometimes they show up on your mouth, other times it's on your nether areas. The muggles have no cure for it."

"So basically, that girl will never speak to me again because she thinks I've got bumps all over my cock."

"That's the likely scenario," Sara nodded. "Which gives you the opportunity to either make up or break up with Angelina before you do something stupid."

"You told her?" he looked incredulously at George..

"What happened? Why did you fight?" Sara queried.

"She wants to move in to the apartment with us. She says she can apparate to work everyday, so distance isn't a problem, but that wasn't the problem to begin with!" he exclaimed.

"So what's the problem then? You let me live there. I know I wasn't your girlfriend, but it was still a bit of an intrusion," she wondered.

"But you're you," he replied. "You're Sara. You're not overwhelming, you don't demand anyone's time. You like to be by yourself sometimes just like we do. You cook, and you clean, and you're helpful. Angelina… Angelina leaves her things everywhere, and she can't cook anything to save her life. And the worst thing of all, she demands my attention whenever she's around. Even when I'm working! I can barely handle that once in a while. Everyday sounds like a nightmare!"

"Did you break up with her yet?"

"No, she just left after we fought. And I'm sure I'll have to be the one to apologize first, because of course _she _can't be wrong about anything," he said sarcastically.

"Probably time to let her go then," George suggested.

"Do you love her?" Sara asked.

"I don't think so," Fred replied quickly.

"Then I agree with George," Sara nodded. "If there's no future, best to probably just end it."

"So now, I'm gonna have no girlfriend, _and _this girl thinks I have some horrible disease," Fred grumbled. "Spectacular day."

"You're gonna do it now?" Sara asked, taken aback.

"Best not to put it off, or I'll end up forgetting," he shrugged. "Meet you back in front of this store in hopefully less than an hour."

He tromped around to the alley between the paper shop and the grocery store. The ensuing crack told them that he was gone.

"George, I know your mum doesn't want us wandering very far, but I need a favor," Sara said hastily.

"What's the favor?"

"We need to go to St. Mungo's."

Fred's words had reminded her of what Dumbledore had asked of her—find out more about her healing abilities. The more she put it off, the more she seemed to forget about it. St. Mungo's had the death certificates of anyone who had died since it opened in the 1600s. She was looking for one person in particular.

They appeared with a crack in the alleyway near the hospital. Trying to blend in, they stepped out into the London air and followed the herd of people down the sidewalks. It seemed that no one had been deterred from their everyday lives by some of the strange and tragic things they'd heard on the news—things that they had no was of knowing were coming from Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

They stopped in front of the red brick department store. Sara leaned toward the dummy and muttered, "I'm here to speak to someone in the record's office."

The dummy's hands reached out for George and Sara, pulling them through the glass into the hospital. The last time she had come to the hospital, it had been to see Mr. Weasley after he'd been attacked last year. Then, it had been decorated for Christmas, but now it looked almost like an ordinary hospital—except for the man in line at the reception desk with two arms growing out of his head.

They found the sign that told them the record's office was in the basement. They opted to take the elevator down when a man vomited all over the floor in front of the stairs.

The basement looked like a regular office building. Sara and George stepped in line behind two wizards waiting with papers in their arms. They approached the desk and asked the witch in forest green robes for their grandfather's death records. The witch disappeared into a back room and came back with a manila envelope.

"Next," she called after they had paid and left.

"Hello," Sara said, approaching the desk. "I need to see the birth and death certificates for a Coralina Ward."

"Birth or death date?" the witch asked.

"I'm not sure, she was either born or died in 1772."

"Well, without knowing an exact date, I'm not sure if we'll be able to find anything accurate. Let me check in the back."

The witch went into the back room and was gone for a few minutes. Sara was getting nervous when she reappeared with two folders in her hands.

"There's one for a witch who died on August 28, 1772, and another for a witch born on the same date. Same names," she said, holding up the folders.

"I'll take them both," Sara exclaimed. "I'm allowed to keep them?"

"Yes, they're just copies."

Sara paid for both records, and they hurried out of the hospital, back into the brisk afternoon air.

"Where did you go?" Fred asked when they reappeared in front of the grocery store a few minutes later.

"Just had to pick something up," Sara replied. "How did it go?"

"Well, she threw an assortment of dishes at me. Barely missed my head about four times. Also, apparently I'm a cock-sucking fuck who stole years of her life from her. She made a point of shouting that at me before I apparated off."

"Cock-sucking fuck, eh?" George laughed.

"You'd think she of all people might know how wrong that is," Fred said.

They got the milk from the grocery store, and Sara had to wait for the two boys who seemed stuck in the candy aisle.

"You two are like children," she sighed as they left with a carton of milk and a bag full of chocolates.

"Muggle candy is fascinating," Fred marveled, pulling the wrapper off a coconut concoction.

"Mum never let us have any when we were kids," George explained, pulling a peanut butter cup out of the bag. "Sometimes dad brought home sweets from his office—"

"—but they were never this exciting."

"Thanks, by the way," George said through a mouth full of chocolate.

"You'll figure out a way to repay me," Sara smirked.

They trudged back to the Burrow through the snow, making sure their purchases stayed dry. Fred and George had finished half the bag of chocolate by the time they stepped into the warm kitchen.

"Boots off here," Mrs. Weasley insisted. "And coats and hats and mittens and—merlin, you three are soaked to the bone."

She waved her wand at the kettle, which shrieked almost instantly. Three cups floated down, and the tea bags settled inside. She poured water over them, then left to oversee the activity in the sitting room, where they could see Ginny, Harry, and Ron decorating a large tree.

"Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom," Fred chanted, scuttling out of the room quickly.

Sara turned to say something to George, but stopped, laughing instead.

"What's wrong?" George wondered.

"You've got a bit of chocolate, right there," she pointed to a spot near the corner of his mouth.

"Well, it's all yours then," he said, jutting his chin out at her.

She smirked, quickly leaning up and pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth. Her tongue darted out, and she tasted the chocolate. She finished off with a small kiss before pulling back. Her smirk grew wider at the dark red staining George's face.

"Two years, and I can still make you blush," she simpered.

"You've been making me blush for more than two years, love," he corrected. "And if I wanted to, I could make you blush too."

"I'd like to see you—" she started.

But George cut her off as he leaned forward and crushed his lips to hers. The fingers of one hand tangled in her hair tightly, the other arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush against him. Her fists clenched around the fabric of his sweater front. His tongue darted in and out of her mouth, and she couldn't help but whine. And then—

"Hm hm."

Sara pulled back abruptly. She turned to see her godfather standing in the doorway. She felt her cheeks flushing, and she found herself unable to speak.

"Afternoon, Lupin," George said brightly.

"I hate you," Sara mumbled.

"Liar," he chuckled, taking his tea and heading into the sitting room.

"Sorry about that," Sara grumbled. "He said he was gonna make me blush, and stupid me had to call him on it."

"I don't mind," Lupin replied, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

"I'm happy to see you," she smiled, the embarrassment ebbing.

She walked over and hugged him, noticing that he was thinner than ever before. The loss of another good friend had hit him hard. The full moon had just passed, and she was glad for it.

"You need a good, hearty meal in you," Sara suggested. "Luckily you've come to the right place."

"Indeed," he nodded.

He kissed the top of her head as she pulled back, smiling up at him.

"I'm glad you're here."

"And I'm glad for the company," he said, taking a seat at the small table that had been piled high with potatoes, carrots, and sprouts.

"Has it been horrible?" she queried.

Her father had told her over the summer that Lupin was going off to live with other werewolves. He had never been among them before, and she knew he would struggle. Lupin was an honorable man who would not kill except to protect—but that made him a very unusual werewolf. The rest of them killed for sport. Most of them liked to steal children from their beds, bite them, and raise them in packs.

"It's been trying, to say the least," he sighed.

She took her tea as well as Fred's to the table, sliding the latter in front of Lupin, who took it gladly.

"Have you run into Greyback yet?" she asked, sitting next to him.

"Fortunately, no," Lupin said. "But his influence is everywhere. And I have little to offer those who believe his way is right."

"I suppose they aren't very apt to see reason."

"Reason is not something for which werewolves are often known," he agreed. "But enough about me. How is school?"

"It's fine. A bit boring without Fred and George," she conceded. "I get a lot more studying done without their interruptions, but I'm far less entertained."

"I can see distance hasn't soured your relationship though," Lupin said, unable to control his slight smirk.

"No, it hasn't," she blushed yet again.

"And I hear Professor Slughorn is teaching Potions now," he noted. "I'm sure he loves you. Your mother was one of his favorites. She and I were both in his Slug Club."

"He's an interesting man," she chuckled. "Wants to be very well connected."

"Indeed," he agreed. "And Professor Snape is teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. I trust he isn't—"

"Oh my god," Sara interrupted, lowering her voice. "I have something to tell you."

"Oh?"

"Our fist topic in his class was Occlumency," she began. "We spent a lot of the first term working on shielding our minds from other students. No one was ever able to enter mine, but I never really expected them to. But when Professor Snape tested us, apparently he couldn't either. And then, when I was with Professor Dumbledore one night, he tried as well, and was just as unsuccessful. It's like… It's like my mind is a steel trap."

"Would you allow me to try?" Lupin asked, interested.

"Of course."

He stared at her intently for a few moments. His face screwed up in concentration, and then finally, he sighed.

"Of course, if Dumbledore was unable to do it, I shouldn't have expected to."

"I don't understand," she shook her head.

"Strange things like this often happened to your mother as well," he explained. "Some curses seemed to have little to no effect on her. And she could heal herself as you can."

Sara was on the verge of telling him about the Death Eater, but she stopped herself. Though it might be pertinent, she knew he would tell her father, and it would worry him. He didn't need anything else on his plate.

"I've had my fair share of strange things," she said instead.

"Haven't we all?" he nodded.

After a day of food and decorating the house for Christmas, Sara and the twins returned to their apartment for the night. They went to bed, and George fell asleep in minutes. Sara, however, was wide awake. Slowly and quietly, she crept from the room and turned on the light in the front room. She took the two manila folders as well as her _Genealogy of Healing _book, a quill, and a bottle of ink, and set herself up on the coffee table. She opened the book to the page with the scribbled name—Coralina Ward. Then she opened the first folder and read, taking notes as she did.

She filled the margins with notes, the only sound coming from the quill scratching on the pages and the shuffling of the certificates. Every bit she learned seemed both more confusing and more illuminating.

"What are you doing up?"

Sara looked up from her writing to see Fred standing in his doorway, his hair ruffled and his eyes squinting.

"Researching," she replied.

"Blimey, woman," he groaned. "You're on vacation. Put the homework on hold."

"It's not homework," she corrected. "It's… It's about my healing abilities."

"What about them?" he asked, heading into the kitchen for a snack.

"I'm trying to find out where they came from," she said, leaning back and stretching her arms over her head. "Why I have them, and what else I got with them."

"And?"

"Some interesting things. I'm almost more confused than when I started though."

"Take a break," he suggested, tossing her a candy bar.

She unwrapped it and took a bite. She watched Fred flop onto the chair across from her, take a bite of his chocolate, and sigh.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Well… I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad to get some time away from Angelina. Merlin knows we probably both need it. But I…" he paused, apparently thinking. "I guess I wish I could find something like what you and George have."

"Oh, Fred," she sighed. "It'll happen for you. And maybe it's not Angelina. And it probably won't happen the same way. But it'll happen. You're an amazing man. And you're already making money like crazy, soon you'll be rich and you'll have your pick of the litter."

"When you put it that way," he laughed.

"You're funny and sweet, and easy on the eyes too. So don't worry about it too much. George and I… Well, we're not the typical situation. It'll take most people a few bad relationships to find your soulmate," she advised.

"Ever the insightful one," he conceded.

"I'm aware," she smiled.

She capped the ink and closed her book, standing up to stretch properly. She'd been working for hours.

"You should get to bed," she advised. "Your mum wants us there early for breakfast."

"Yes, ma'am," he teased.

As she passed him, she leaned down and pecked his cheek softly.

"Night, Fred," she said, heading into her room.

"Night," he called over his shoulder.

She crawled into bed next to George and couldn't help herself as she leaned over him and kissed him softly. He opened his eyes, his sleep-addled brain having trouble realizing what was happening.

"What was that for?" he asked as she pulled back.

"Fred and I were talking, and I'm just glad you were my first boyfriend," she replied, nestling herself in the crook of his arm. "No bad relationships for me."

"Speak for yourself," he mumbled.

"Now, now."

"I love you," he said, turning his face toward her to kiss her forehead.

"I love you too," she muttered, allowing herself to forget about Coralina Ward and Rodolphus Lestrange and even Voldemort as she fell asleep next to the man she loved.


	39. Happy

The next few days were spent cooking and baking, wrapping presents, and lots of eating. At night, they would all lounge in the sitting room, enjoying tea and desserts by the light of the fire. Mrs. Weasley listened to the radio and drank eggnog. Lupin sat by the fire, occasionally taking part in a chess game or round of Exploding Snap. Sara read, finishing all the books she got from the shop except for the naught ones.

They awoke on Christmas morning in high spirits. Sara, Fred, and George opened their presents from one another together in the sitting room of the apartment. Fred and George got one another the same gift—a brand new Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

"Did you plan this?" Sara asked incredulously.

"No!" they both exclaimed.

"That's so weird," she laughed. "Twin magic."

Sara had gotten both of them the same thing for Christmas this year—silver cufflinks set with an opaque black sapphire that looked truly impressive when it caught the light.

"These are wicked," Fred marveled, turning them over in his hand.

"Glad you like them," she smiled.

Fred had gotten Sara a stack of 25 books from the shop in town. She opened each one with glee, always excited to get more books.

"How on earth did you figure out muggle money?" she asked in amazement.

"Verity had to help me," he admitted. "And she helped me wrap them. Turns out I'm dead awful at that, even with magic."

Finally, she opened George's present. She anticipated another piece of jewelry like the previous years—he'd given her a necklace two years before, and a bracelet last year. But when she pulled the wrapping back, what she saw made her heart stop.

It was a photo in a frame of a woman holding a baby. Like most pictures in the wizarding world, it was moving. The woman was rocking the baby backward and forward, singing a silent song to it. The woman was the most beautiful Sara had ever seen.

"Mum," she whispered.

Fred and George moved to sit on either side of her as the tears came on uncontrollably, wrapping an arm around each shoulder. She leaned on George while taking Fred's hand, unable to look away from the picture.

"When people say you look like her, they're really not kidding," Fred marveled.

"She was taller than me," Sara said through the tears.

"Most people are," he joked.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, looking up at George.

"It… It was your dad's," he replied. "He wanted me to give it to you."

"He's never shown me this before," she said, confused.

"He said that he's looked at this picture every night since she… Died," he struggled over the last word. "But now it's time that he lets go and passes her on to you."

"He loved her so much," she sighed, still staring at the photograph. "She was the only woman he'd ever loved. If he hadn't had to take care of me when she…" she paused, unable to say it. "Well, I'm not sure what he would have done."

"I didn't mean to make you cry," George muttered, embarrassed.

"Oh, George, no" she exclaimed. "This is the best present you've ever given me. George, you gave me a memory I was never able to have. I love it."

"I'm glad," he smiled.

She leaned up and kissed him softly, then turned and kissed Fred on the cheek as well.

"I'm so happy I have you two," she sighed in contentment. "But we should get going, your mum won't be happy if she has to hold up Christmas lunch for us."

When they were back in their room with the door closed, Sara pulled out one more gift.

"It's our anniversary present. I don't want to wait," she smiled.

George ripped off the paper. It was what appeared to be a diary. He looked at her with a perplexed expression, though hers was one of utter excitement.

"Look," she said, grabbing an identical diary off the desk, as well as a pen, flipping open the first page and writing something. "Now open yours."

George opened the diary to the first page, which was blank only for a moment before the words "I love you" appeared in Sara's neat scrawl. He looked up at her in amazement.

"We can write without the owls now, and without all the wait! I can write you when I'm bored in class. It's easier to just write in a book than write the letter, trudge out to the owlery, find a bird, and send it out. Plus this way no one will read our messages, since the Ministry is checking all owls. It's amazing!"

"You're amazing," he admitted, pulling her toward him.

"I never get tired of hearing you say that," she sniggered.

"I have your present, but… I don't want to give it to you yet," he said.

"Whenever you're ready, then," she replied.

Fred knocked on the door and told them to hurry up, so they changed quickly and headed out to join him in the sitting room. They gathered up their presents for everyone else and apparated to the Burrow. Mr. Weasley met them at the door for the traditional line of questioning.

"When Ron was little, what did you turn his teddy bear into?" he asked Fred.

"A spider," Fred said as he laughed at the memory.

"Where did your mother and I lose you when you were six, and where did we find you?" he asked George.

"Madam Malkin's Robes, and you found me in Florean Fortescue's, eating ice cream," he too laughed.

"What was the first thing you asked to see when you arrived at the Burrow when you were 12?" he asked Sara.

"The chicken coop," she smiled.

"Good," he nodded. "Come in then, kids. Merry Christmas!"

They trudged into the warm kitchen, enjoying the smells coming from the oven and stove. Lupin was setting the table, and Mrs. Weasley was cooking feverishly.

"Merry Christmas, dears," she said warmly, sweeping each of them into a hug. "Open your presents, come on now!"

They ripped the paper off of homemade sweaters and pies individualized for each of them. Fred and George's both had fireworks on the front, while Sara's bore different shaped snowflakes. She was tempted to bite into one of her blueberry pies as she slipped the sweater over her head, but she refrained.

"Sit down and open your presents, mum," George insisted, pulling out the chair for her.

"Oh, you didn't need to get me anything!" she exclaimed.

Fred had gotten her a necklace of gold chains woven together impressively. George had gotten a midnight blue witch's hat studded with tiny diamonds. Sara had gotten her gold earrings that hung down and ended with two small diamonds. They all matched perfectly, as they had planned, and Mrs. Weasley beamed with happiness..

"This is too much!" she exclaimed.

"If anything, it's not enough," Fred said, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek.

"Thanks for putting up with us," George teased, kissing the other cheek.

"You're the closest thing I've ever had to a mother," Sara admitted. "And you deserve nothing but wonderful things."

Mrs. Weasley couldn't help herself from tearing up as she stood and enveloped Sara in another hug. Sara loved her hugs. She didn't remember what a hug from her own mother was like, but she thought it felt something like this.

"Thank you, all of you," Mrs. Weasley beamed, the tears shining in her eyes.

While Fred and George snuck tastes of the dishes, Sara went into the dining room and was shocked at what she saw. Lupin had taken a seat across from her father, who was looking extremely tired.

"Dad!" she exclaimed.

They hugged for a long time. Sara hadn't seen her father in almost six months. He had lost a lot of weight—it was even more noticeable on him than on Lupin. His once-blond hair was now graying.

"I've missed yeh, darlin'," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Did George give yeh yehr present?"

"Yes, he did," she replied. "Mum was so beautiful. Thank you for giving that to him."

"Of course," he said, a strange smile on his face.

"Are you staying for lunch?" she asked hopefully.

"'Fraid not," he sighed. "Molly's packed me some food to go, but I have to be gettin' back. Just wanted to see you. Sorry I didn't buy yeh anything."

"Don't be sorry! I'm just happy to see you," she said, hugging him again.

"I should just quit my job," he muttered.

"Maybe," she conceded.

"Remus, I hope I'll see you soon," Liam nodded to his friend, kissing Sara on the forehead one last time before trudging outside.

Sara heaved herself into the chair next to her godfather and let her head hit the table. He placed his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. She desperately missed her father. Of course, she had gone for long stretches without seeing him—every year she spent the first term with nothing more than a few letters from him.

"He's not taking care of himself," she mumbled. "I was always there to help him, and now he's alone."

"You can't be there for him forever," Lupin tried. "He knows how to take care of himself. He's still alive. That's really the best any of us can hope for."

Sara lifted her head up and nodded in agreement. He was right, of course. In these dark times, "happy and healthy" was nothing but a dream. It was a gift not to be dead or in hiding.

"You're right," she conceded.

"The best thing you can do for him is try to be happy yourself," he added. "He's happy when you are."

"I know."

"And, when the opportunity presents itself," he said, his voice completely serious, "choose to be happy."

"I will," she said, taken aback.

People began filing into the dining room. Mrs. Weasley magicked all of the dishes onto the table, and Sara felt her mouth watering. George took a seat on her other side, and the others filled in the empty seats. Everyone but Fleur had received a sweater from Mrs. Weasley, which made Sara chuckle. Mrs. Weasley was eager to show off her gifts. Everyone else put heaping piles of food onto their plates and dug in.

"Hungry? It's not going anywhere," George teased.

Sara tried to respond, but couldn't speak around her mouthful of mashed potatoes. Instead, she used her spoon like a cannon to launch a heap of beans at him.

"I invited _dear _Tonks to come along today," Mrs. Weasley suddenly said very loudly, punctuated by her dropping the bowl of carrots onto the table. "But she wouldn't come. Have you spoken to her lately, Remus?"

"No, I haven't been in contact with anybody very much," he replied. "But Tonks has got her own family to go to, hasn't she?"

"Hmmmm, maybe. I got the impression she was planning to spend Christmas alone, actually," Mrs. Weasley said disapprovingly.

Sara wondered for a moment why Mrs. Weasley was asking Lupin so much about Tonks, but she was thoroughly distracted by Fred and George squabbling over the last dinner roll on the platter.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Sara murmured, waving her wand and summoning the platter on the opposite side of the table. "You two are like a stupid commercial."

"A what?" they both asked at once.

"It's… Well, it's on muggle television, between the shows. They advertise things," she explained.

"Why would us fighting over rolls advertise something?" Fred wondered.

"They're supposed to be funny, otherwise people won't watch them," Sara went on. "Like, they'd show you squabbling to prove how good their rolls are so you'd go out and buy them."

"That's stupid," both said together.

"Well, I mean it makes—"

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, leaping from her chair and clutching at her chest as she stared out the window. "Arthur—it's Percy!"

_"What?"_ he cried.

Walking up the back path to the house, Percy Weasley was visible through the lightly falling snow. Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic, strode behind him. They entered the kitchen, a strange hush falling over the room.

"Merry Christmas, mother," Percy said stiffly.

"Oh, Percy!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, lunging at her son and wrapping her arms tightly around him. He seemed less than enthused as he patted her back.

Sara looked up at George, then Fred, who were staring icily at Percy. It was no mystery that they were not overly fond of Percy. Mr. Weasley, Ron, and Ginny had similar looks on their faces. Scrimgeour explained that Percy had wanted to come see the family for the Christmas, which Sara recognized to be a blatant lie; Percy would not look any of them in the eye, instead focusing on a picture behind the table. Scrimgeour sure did lay it on thick though, saying again how they wouldn't be here if Percy hadn't wanted so badly to visit, eliciting more tears from Mrs. Weasley. He insisted he didn't want to butt in, so asked if Harry would give him a tour of the garden. Of course he would want to talk to Harry; he was using Percy to get to the house, where he would try to convince Harry to help a government that had called him a liar for the past year. Sara shook her head in disgust, making sure that Scrimgeour saw. Sara could see the wheels in Harry's head spinning; he agreed and, ignoring the protests of Lupin and Mr. Weasley, grabbed his coat and headed outside, Scrimgeour closely behind him.

The house fell silent once again. Everyone seemed to be waiting for Percy to say something, though it was obvious that he had no intention of doing so. After many palpable minutes, Fred broke the silence.

"So, did you just come here to stand around?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He was not an angry person, and to see him cross was almost frightening.

"Yeah, we all know we're not the reason you came back," George added, resting his elbows on the table.

"Boys, please!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

"Mum, they're right," Ron mumbled, popping a bite of turkey into his mouth.

"He doesn't care about us," George spat.

"He hasn't wanted to come see us before—" Fred continued.

"—but now he brings his boss along who conveniently wants to go 'see the garden' with Harry!"

"It's not as if they're out there talking Quidditch."

"Everyone wants to be friends with Harry now that they think he's The Chosen One," Ron cut in. "But it's not like anyone was there defending him last year. No one but us."

"It's bullshit!" George cried, slamming his fist on the table.

"George," Sara whispered, laying her hand on his.

He looked down at her hand and twined their fingers together, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Sara heard Fred on his other side do the same.

"Son, why haven't you come home? We miss you," Mr. Weasley said, staring over at his son.

"I've been busy," Percy stated flatly, not looking at them, still staring at the wall behind them.

"Busy my ass! You just don't want to face what you've done!" Fred exclaimed.

"Fred!" Mrs. Weasley cried.

"You don't know what we're doing, what the Ministry is doing, how important our work is," Percy glared, now looking at his furious brother.

"Prefect Percy still thinks he's so important," George rumbled.

"The Prime Minister's little bitch," Fred said.

"What is happening at the core of the Ministry is clearly beyond the capacity of you all. Father, you don't even know the half of it," Percy sneered, his eyes still on Fred.

"Percy, my father is working himself to the bone for your precious Ministry," Sara said accusingly, her eyes narrowing. "It's killing him, but he's still able to see me now and then."

"And what would you know about your father's working conditions? Your ignorance is laughable. Your father shouldn't have anything to complain about. We take care of—" Percy started, but was cut off by three helpings of parsnips hitting him square in the face. Three separate clangs were heard as Ginny, Fred, and George all dropped their spoons onto their plates.

Without a word, Percy turned on his heel and stormed out the door.

"No, Percy!" Mrs. Weasley cried, following him just out the door.

"Guys—" Mr. Weasley started.

"He doesn't just get to come into this house—" Fred interrupted.

"—and insult us all," George finished, looking over at Sara.

"He hasn't been a proper part of this family in years, he doesn't get to talk to anyone that way," Ginny affirmed, nodding vigorously.

Their father eyed them for a moment, before sighing and shaking his head somberly. Mrs. Weasley came back inside without Percy.

"Mum, I'm sorry," all three of them said at once.

Mrs. Weasley stopped, staring at her children. Tears were filling up in her eyes, threatening to burst forth.

"I know you are. I just wish he'd—" she choked, unable to them back.

Mr. Weasley quickly stood from his chair and took her in his arms. He walked her into the sitting room, leaving the others at the table. Shortly after, Harry returned to the kitchen without Scrimgeour. He sat back down at the table, looking a bit perturbed.

"Where did they go?" he asked, gesturing toward the two empty seats at the ends of the table.

"Don't ask," both Fred and George grumbled, returning to their dinners.

"What happened?" Sara asked, looking over at Harry. "What did he want?"

"He wanted me to help the Ministry. He wants to use my title to give them credibility. And he wanted to know what Dumbledore was up to. Well I'm certainly not going to help them out, and I made a point of telling him so," Harry spat.

"Good for you, mate," Fred cheered, raising his glass to toast Harry.

"Just try not to make too many enemies," Sara advised, a worried smile on her face.

"Harry, I too think you should exercise caution," Lupin warned. "You may not agree with what they have to say, but the Ministry is powerful. You do not want to give them reason to dislike you any more than they already might."

"I know," Harry sighed, looking down at his plate. "But did you know that Umbridge still works for the Ministry."

Sara nearly spat out her bite of turkey. The reactions of the other Weasleys at the table were no different.

"Let me get this straight. That insufferable cow made our lives miserable for a year, punished those of us who wanted to better ourselves, and insisted that you were lying about Voldemort. Even after all that, _and _getting herself almost killed by centaurs, she still has a job with a Ministry of Magic that claims to want Voldemort exterminated?" Sara fumed. "Wish we could all be so lucky."

"I myself always thought she was more like a toad than a cow," Fred cut in.

That successfully lightened the tension a bit, and dinner ended on a less sour note. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stayed in the sitting room while the others dispersed about the house. Sara and Lupin cleaned up the mess from dinner together, working quietly for a while, afraid to disturb the silence that had settled over the house.

"What do you plan to do after you're done with school?" Lupin asked suddenly.

"Well, I… I haven't thought about it very much," Sara admitted, levitating the pile of clean plates back to their spot on the shelf.

"I think you could perhaps be a healer," he suggested. "You've rivaled the top healers at St. Mungos since you were a child, and you never had to learn. You might have a future there. But, you could do anything you wanted, of course."

"I'm so worried about the future. What if, by the time I graduate, everything's changed? What if I can't go work at St. Mungos? What if—" she exclaimed, suddenly voicing her fears.

"If that happens," he interrupted, resting his hand on her shoulder, "then your father and I will help you cross that bridge. But, for now, just think about what you want to do. And then follow your dream."

"Thank you," she muttered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. He cared so much about her, and it always tugged at her heartstrings.

After the food was cleared away Lupin headed into the sitting room to console Mrs. Weasley. Sara, on the other hand, headed outside. It was chilly, but not bitter cold She sighed, letting her body slump against the side of the house as she slid to the ground. It really was getting to be about the time she should figure out what to do with her life. St. Mungos looked promising, but she didn't know if healing was her calling. Her mother had been an Auror, and her father worked for the Ministry too. Being at the top of her class and having the parents that she did, she was fairly certain that she would have a job there if she wanted one. But with the Ministry in such an awful state, did she really want to work there? There were so many options, and yet she had no idea which she should choose.

The front door opened with a squeak and Sara looked up to see George peering down at her.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, closing the door and crouching down next to her.

"Thinking about the future," she sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"You've been doing a lot of that lately."

"Because I don't have it figured out yet," she said, running her fingers through her hair. "There are so many things I could do, and I just don't know what I want."

"Will you walk with me?" he asked, standing up abruptly.

"Oh," she looked surprised. "Yeah, sure."

He pulled her up and slid an arm around her shoulder, taking her down the steps and around the snowy yard. Sara wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to trap in the heat.

"I love you," George said abruptly as they passed the chicken coop.

"What did you do?" she asked instinctively.

"I didn't _do_ anything," he chuckled, looking down at her. "I can tell you I love you for no reason."

"You certainly can, but usually it's because you've done something or want something," she corrected.

"Let's get married," he said.

Sara looked at him with wide eyes. They had stopped walking now and were standing next to one another on the thin path cut out of the snow.

"George, what on earth are you talking about," she asked.

"Do you love me?" he asked, turning so he was facing her.

"You know I do," she shook her head. "But we can't just get married!"

"Why not?" he retorted. "If we love each other, there isn't much more to it than that. I have a thriving business, it's not like I couldn't take care of you."

"It's more complicated than that, George," she scolded.

"How?"

"I… George, it's… Well…" she spluttered.

He was staring at her so intently, but she just couldn't find the words. So instead, she brushed past him and continued walking down the cleared path. The crunching of the frozen grass behind her let her know he was still following her. She didn't really have a destination in mind until they neared Mr. Weasley's shed. Sara stepped inside and allowed George to follow her.

"You know, you're eventually going to have to tell me why you think it's such a ridiculous idea," he reminded her.

"We've only been together for two years," she tried to reason with him.

"And I plan on spending the rest of my years with you too," he retorted.

"I don't understand why it's so important to you," she sighed, picking up a level and wobbling it back and forth, watching the little bubble inside move.

"And I don't understand why it's not important to you."

"Maybe I'm scared," she suggested.

"What are you scared of?" George asked.

"Does that question even need to be asked? I'm scared of everything!" she exclaimed, tossing the level back down. "What isn't there to be scared of lately? People are dying all the time. No one is safe. Plus, my parents got married young, and then my mother died—she was killed! If I lost you now… The whole world's gone to shit. I can't lose you too. I just can't, George!"

"Sara, that's silly! Just because we get married doesn't mean—"

"It's not just getting married though, George! The closer we get, the more I love you, and the more I love you, the more it'll hurt to lose you! And I can't, George, I can't!"

He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. She was shaking, partly from the cold and partly from her high emotions. He rubbed her back soothingly.

"Look," he began. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to. But with the world going to hell around us, I want to have something constant. Something showing the world that it can't touch what we have. Something proving there can be light even in the dark. Sara, I love you. And I want the world to know just how much I love you. And pushing me away won't make it hurt any less, because I don't think it's possible to love you anymore than I do now."

George reached into his pocked and pulled out a small velvet box. He gingerly opened it and Sara gasped, her hand reaching up to cover her mouth. The ring inside was easily larger than any she had ever seen. An enormous diamond sat at the center of the gold band, with three smaller diamonds on either side of it.

"George, how did you—" she began.

"It was your mother's," he said, staring down at the dazzling ring. "Been in her family for centuries, according to your father. I went to him last month to get his blessing—that was when he gave me the picture. I had some money set aside for a ring. But he told me to save it. And then he gave me this one. Almost gave the game away on the night of Slughorn's shindig when you wanted to see what I had in my pockets, remembered just before I reached inside. Your dad said that if I ever stopped making you happy, that he'd find me and tear out my—are you crying?"

Sara felt the tears cascading down her cheeks. She looked up into George's eyes. The way he looked at her… It was like no one ever had before. Like she could do no wrong. She'd never felt more perfect than when he was looking at her. Lupin's words repeated in her head. _"When the opportunity presents itself, choose to be happy."_

"Your mum's gonna be in hysterics when she hears, isn't she?"

After a few seconds, George's face split into a wide grin.

"You're saying yes, then?" he asked excitedly.

"I suppose I am."

In less than a second, George had pulled Sara into his arms and lifted her into the air. Their faces were level as he kissed her feverishly.

"Sara Weasley," he pondered as he pulled away.

"Oi, it's not happening tomorrow, I'll be Sara Roth for a while yet," she chided.

"Still, eventually," he smirked.

He set her down and slid the ring onto her finger. Sara was astounded at how ornate it was. She'd never seen a finer family heirloom.

"I can't believe it was my mother's," she marveled.

"Wait until you see the wedding ring, it's about the size of my fist," George chuckled.

"He gave you her wedding ring too?!" Sara exclaimed.

"Well, yeah."

Sara felt herself tearing up again. Her father had saved them especially for her. He had known that one day, they would mean the world to her.

"Your mum's gonna fume that he knew and she didn't," Sara laughed.

"Didn't think about that one."

"And I think Remus must've known too," she said. "My dad might've told him."

They made the walk back to the house with their hands clasped. They entered to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley standing at the counter, a cup of tea in Mrs. Weasley's hands.

"Where did you two wander off to?" she asked weakly.

"We… We just went for a little walk," Sara replied.

"Mum, dad, we actually have something to tell you," George said nervously.

Mr. Weasley tuned quickly from the stove, his eyes wide.

"What is it?" Mrs. Weasley asked, not catching her husband's expression.

"Ah… Well…" George was distracted by his father's frantic head shaking.

"George and I… Well, we've just gotten engaged," Sara smiled.

The cup in Mrs. Weasley's hands fell to the floor and shattered as she squealed with delight and threw her arms around the two of them, the ordeal with Percy quickly forgotten in her excitement.

"I knew it was just a matter of time!" she exclaimed. "How wonderful! When will the wedding be?"

"Well, not for a while," Sara explained. "I want to finish school first, and then hopefully get a job. Probably not for a few years, but George just couldn't wait."

"Come on then, let's tell Remus and the children!" Mrs. Weasley squealed as she dragged Sara into the kitchen.

Several pairs of shocked eyes now stared at Sara and the frighteningly cheery Mrs. Weasley as they entered the sitting room. Only Fred was grinning like an idiot, and Lupin was smiling knowingly.

"Everyone, wonderful news," Mrs. Weasley announced. "George and Sara are engaged!"

"That _is _wonderful!" Ginny exclaimed, jumping to her feet and coming to look at the ring.

"Congratulations," Lupin said.

"Glad he plucked up the courage," Fred winked.

Suddenly, a booming laugh issued from the kitchen. Mr. Weasley emerged holding a bottle of Firewhiskey, followed by George, who was having a hard time stifling a laugh. He drew up next to Sara and wrapped an arm around her, still chortling.

"A celebration toast?" Mr. Weasley suggested, holding up the bottle.

Mrs. Weasley magicked some glasses and poured out eleven drinks, passing them off to everyone.

"What was that?" Sara asked as George leaned over her to take the glass from his mother.

"My dad thought we were gonna announce you were pregnant," he whispered. "Said it would literally have killed mum."

Sara instantly flushed scarlet. Mr. Weasley looked over at her and smiled sheepishly.

"I don't look it, do I?" Sara asked George nervously.

"That's a silly question," he said with a smile in his voice.

They toasted the happy couple and downed their drinks. Mrs. Weasley poured out second glasses for everyone but herself, and then thirds, and fourths. Sara was sufficiently tipsy by the time turkey sandwiches were brought out for dinner. She leaned against George and sighed contentedly.

"Having a good time?" he asked, taking a sandwich from the pile.

"The best," she smiled up at him.

"Merlin, you're embarrassing," he laughed.

Eventually, the yawning started, and Mrs. Weasley insisted that everyone head to bed. George helped Sara up and steadied her on her feet. She hugged Lupin and Mr. Weasley, and was nearly mauled by Mrs. Weasley.

"See you kids tomorrow, we'll have breakfast ready at 10 if you're interested," she said as she hugged her two sons tightly.

"We'll be there," Fred smiled.

"With bells on," George added.

"Good night!" Sara said cheerily.

And with a crack, they disappeared from the sitting room, reappearing in the flat above the shop. Fred lumbered off to his room while George wrapped an arm around Sara, leading her into his bedroom.

"How many kids do you want to have?" she asked George closed the door behind them.

"That's an odd question," he chuckled.

"No it's not," she slurred. "I've told you that I want to marry you one day, so I'm curious how many kids I'm gonna have to pop out."

"That's a wonderful image you've painted of our future," George grimaced as he sat her down on the bed.

"I'm serious," she said, pulling off her shirt.

"I mean, I haven't really thought about it," George pondered as he slipped one of his shirts onto her. "I won't _make _you have any kids. We'll have as many kids as you want. I don't need a family as big as ours. We don't have to have any if you don't want them. I think this is your call, you're the one that has to 'pop them out.'"

Sara lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. George stripped down to his boxers, flicked off the lights with his wand, and crawled into bed next to Sara. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her shift into place against him. The minutes passed slowly. George had wondered if she'd fallen asleep. He closed his eyes.

"I think I'd be alright with two."

He opened his eyes and looked down at Sara, who was staring contemplatively into the darkness.

"Well," he said, burying his face in her hair, "I think I can come to terms with that."

"I want more than one. I always want them to have someone else, someone to play with and fight with and talk with. I love my dad, but he never made a great playmate. So two would be great," she reasoned.

"Two sounds perfect," he said, unable to keep the smile from spreading over his face.

She turned to face him and looked up at him with those calculating green eyes. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. She was biting her bottom lip. The shirt she wore was too large, and it exposed her left shoulder, which he kissed softly. Everything about her in this moment was perfect.

"I love you," he sighed.

"Do you promise?" she asked.

"Do I promise that I love you?"

She nodded so seriously, George couldn't help the slight laugh that escaped from his mouth. She glared up at him and made to pull away, but he just held on tighter.

"I would think that asking you to marry me tonight might have been enough promise. But yes, Sara. I promise, I love you. I love you more than I even thought was possible. I have loved you since the moment we met, and I have no doubt that I will love you until I die," he vowed.

A moment passed before Sara leaned up and gently pressed her lips to George's, though not quite kissing him.

"Happy anniversary, Georgie," she whispered.

"I still remember the first time I kissed you," he smirked.

"You were pouting because you chickened out on asking me to the Yule Ball," she laughed, kissing him softly for good measure.

"I conceded defeat to my Russian foe," he argued.

"You told me there wasn't anyone else you wanted to go with."

"And there wasn't," he smiled. "Because you were the only one I wanted. The only girl in the room. You're always the only girl in the room."

"You're making me blush, Weasley," she chided.

"Nice to know I can still do that after two years, Mrs. Weasley," he teased.

"Shut up… Now it feels like that stuff I got you this morning isn't all that special," she sighed, admiring her ring in the dim light.

"You said yes, that's the best gift you could ever give me," he corrected.

He kissed her more deeply this time, and Sara couldn't help but feel truly happy.


	40. Obliviate

Sara returned to school at the end of the holidays, and jumped back in head first. Her lessons with Professor McGonagall were getting more difficult.

"Miss Roth, getting discouraged will only make the process more difficult," Professor McGonagall explained after a particularly taxing day.

"It seems like I'm not getting any better," she huffed, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"You are already better than most," McGonagall corrected.

"Same time tomorrow, then," Sara sighed, heading out of the empty classroom.

It was the first of March, and outside the snow was starting to melt. Everything outside was a grey mess. The fact that the Hogsmeade trip had been cancelled today hadn't helped her mood at all. George was probably the only thing that would have been able to get her out of this funk.

She headed down to the library where she and Hermione had agreed to meet after her Apparition lessons. When Hermione still had not showed up at 3:30, Sara got worried. She packed up her bags and began searching the halls for any sign of her. A flash of silver passed through the corridor parallel to the one she was in, and Sara almost couldn't believe her eyes.

"Professor Dumbledore?!" she called, running after the silver flash.

She rounded the corner, worried that she had imagined him; to her satisfaction, Professor Dumbledore stood waiting.

"Good afternoon, my dear. And how does this lovely spring day find you?" he asked humbly.

"Oh, I'm doing just fine. I haven't seen you in so long, sir!" she remarked, suddenly very happy.

"Yes, I've been a bit preoccupied. Are you headed to the Hospital Wing?" he asked with a small smile.

"Hospital… Wing? I don't think Madam Pomfrey's asked for me…" she mused, looking a bit confused.

"Oh, you haven't heard. It appears the young Mr. Weasley was poisoned."

"Poisoned?!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, but Harry's quick thinking saved his life. I've just come from there, but if you'd like I could escort you back," he smiled graciously.

"Oh, professor, I don't want to be a bother," she said, waving her arms.

"No bother at all, my dear. Come, the walking is good for me," he retorted, gesturing for her to walk alongside him. "Are you enjoying the Head Girl position?"

"Yes sir, I am. The Prefects this year are doing quite well," she said as they walked.

"Wonderful. And I hear that you're still top of the class. Nervous for your N.E.W.T.s?" he asked.

"A bit," she said with a laugh. "I've started studying. I'm a bit overwhelmed, actually."

"Well, try not to overdo it," he suggested.

They rounded a corner a bit too quickly and Sara smacked into someone, both of them falling to the floor. She looked up to see Draco on the ground in front of her. He stood up brusquely and reached out his hand for her. She turned her face away from him and pushed herself up without his help. She shot him a contemptuous look before walking past him. Dumbledore, who had watched the scene with mild curiosity, followed suite.

"How strange," he mused with a smile as he turned back to watch Draco disappear around the corner.

They continued walking in silence until they reached the double doors leading to the Hospital Wing. Hermione, Harry, and Ginny all sat outside looking rather distressed.

"Oh, Sara!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm sorry I didn't come down, it just—"

"Don't worry about it. I think the situation warrants my forgiveness," Sara stopped her. "Why are you all out here?"

"Madam Pomfrey won't let us in," Harry grumbled.

"I'll leave you all to it then. I hope to see you soon, Ms. Roth," Dumbledore bade them farewell, though Sara saw a glint in his eye that had not been there before.

Because she worked in the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey let Sara in to check up on Ron—much to the dismay of the other three, who'd hoped that they would be allowed in as well. He looked pale, but alive. She relayed this information to the other three, who seemed grateful for the update. Harry retold the story to her, telling her about the Chocolate Cauldrons, taking him to Slughorn, the poisoned mead, and the bezoar. She listened intently and attempted to comfort Hermione, who looked almost paler than Ron did. At around 7:00, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley showed up to see Ron. Professor Dumbledore escorted them into the Hospital Wing to see their son, then back out to his office. It wasn't until 8:00 that Madam Pomfrey allowed them to enter the Hospital Wing. Hermione, Harry, and Ginny flew through the doors, surrounding Ron's bedside. Sara took a chair near his feet. They fussed over him, though he was quite asleep. Not ten minutes had passed before they heard shuffling at the door. Sara turned and felt a smile spread over her face.

"So, all in all, not one of Ron's better birthdays?" Fred remarked.

"This isn't how we imagined handing over our present," George said, setting the gift on Ron's bedside table before dragging a chair next to Sara and taking a seat. Her hand found his almost immediately.

"Yeah, when we pictured the scene, he was conscious," Fred cringed.

"There we were in Hogsmeade, waiting to surprise him—" George began.

"You were in Hogsmeade?" Ginny queried.

"We were thinking of buying Zonko's," Fred explained. "A Hogsmeade branch, you know, but a fat lot of good it'll do us if you lot aren't allowed out at weekends to buy our stuff anymore… But never mind that now. How exactly did it happen, Harry?"

Fred pulled his chair up next to Harry, and they all listened to him recount the tale once more.

"Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar," George marveled.

"Lucky there was one in the room," Harry added.

"Do mum and dad know?" Fred asked.

"They've already seen him, they arrived an hour ago," Ginny replied. "They're in Dumbledore's office now, but they'll be back soon."

"Your mum was in hysterics," Sara whispered to George.

"Don't doubt it," he agreed.

"So the poison was in the drink?" asked Fred.

"Yes, Slughorn poured it out—" Harry began.

"Would he have been able to slip something into Ron's glass without you seeing?" Fred interrupted.

"Probably, but why would Slughorn want to poison Ron?" Harry queried.

"No idea," Fred furrowed his brow. "You don't think he could have mixed up the glasses by mistake? Meaning to get you?"

"Why would Slughorn want to poison Harry?" Ginny countered.

"I dunno," Fred shrugged, "but there must be loads of people who'd like to poison Harry, mustn't there? 'The Chosen One' and all that?"

"So you think Slughorn's a Death Eater?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"Anything's possible."

"He could be under the Imperius Curse," George suggested.

"Or he could be innocent. The poison could have been in the bottle, in which case it was probably meant for Slughorn himself," Ginny deduced.

"Who'd want to kill Slughorn?" Sara asked.

"Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side," Harry replied. "Slughorn was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts. And… And maybe Voldemort wants him out of the way, maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore."

"But you said Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas. So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Dumbledore," Ginny reminded him.

"Then the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," Hermione said quietly. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself."

Ron mumbled in his sleep, and they all watched him for a few moments. Suddenly, the door burst open and Hagrid bustled in, eager to join the conversation.

"'Someone couldn' have a grudge against the Gryffindor Quidditch team, could they?" he suggested. "Firs' Katie, now Ron…"

"I can't see anyone trying to bump off a Quidditch team," George said.

"Wood might've done the Slytherins if he could've got away with it," Fred reasoned.

"Well, I don't think it's Quidditch, but I think there's a connection between the attacks," Hermione spoke once more.

"How d'you work that out?" Fred asked.

"Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren't, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course, that makes the person behind this even more dangerous in a way, because they don't seem to care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their victim."

Before anyone could reply, the doors flew open, and Mrs. Weasley swooped Harry up into a hug, Mr. Weasley right behind her. Madam Pomfrey stepped in to tell them that there were too many people, so Sara, Hermione, Harry, and Hagrid left, leaving the Weasleys to themselves.

"It's terrible," Hagrid mumbled. "All this new security, an' kids are still gettin' hurt… Dumbledore's worried sick… He don' say much, but I can tell…"

"Hasn't he got any ideas, Hagrid?" asked Hermione.

As they walked, Sara let her mind wander, until she heard Harry say something that brought her out of her stupor.

"What? Dumbledore's angry with Snape?

"I never said tha'," Hagrid said, looking panicked. "Look at the time, it's getting' on fer midnight, I need ter—"

"Hagrid, why is Dumbledore angry with Snape?" Harry repeated.

"Shhhhh!" Hagrid pleaded. "Don' say stuff like that, Harry, d'yeh wan' me ter lose my job? Mind, I don' suppose yeh'd care, would yeh, now that yeh've given up Care of Mag—"

"Don't try and make me feel guilty, it wont work," Harry interrupted. "What's Snape done?"

"I dunno, Harry, I shouldn'ta heard it at all! I—well, I was comin' out of the forest the other evenin' an' I overheard 'em talking—well, arguin'. Didn't like ter draw attention to meself, so I sorta skulked an' tried not ter listen, but it was a—well, a heated discussion an' it wasn' easy ter block out."

"Well?" Harry urged, Hermione and Sara listening just as intently.

"Well—I jus' heard Snape sayin' Dumbledore took too much fer granted an' maybe he—Snape—didn' wan' ter do it anymore—"

"Do what?" Harry asked.

"I dunno, Harry, it sounded like Snape was feelin' a bit overworked, tha's all—anyway, Dumbledore told him flat out he'd agreed to do it an' that was all there was to it. Pretty firm with him. An' then he said summat abou' Snape makin' investigations in his House, Slytherin. Well, there's nothin' strange abou' that! All the Heads o' Houses were asked ter look inter that necklace business—"

"Yeah, but Dumbledore's not having rows with the rest of them, is he?" Harry said.

"Look, I know what yeh're like abou' Snape, Harry, an' I don' want yeh ter go readin' more inter this than there is."

"Look out," Hermione cut in.

Just then, Filch rounded the corner, telling them off with glee about being out of bed after hours. Sara knew she would be alright, as one of only two students in the whole school with unlimited roaming privileges. She sidled off with Harry and Hermione while Hagrid stayed behind to have a shouting match with Filch. Harry and Hermione bade Sara farewell, and she headed back toward the Hospital Wing. She peeked inside to make sure the Weasleys were still there before taking a seat on the steps just outside.

You didn't have to be a genius to know that Dumbledore was telling Snape he needed to delve deeper into his own house to get to the culprit—Draco. Sara was quite certain that he had given both the necklace to Katie and the mead to Slughorn. She was also quite certain that Dumbledore knew he was the culprit—there was little that went on at the school that Dumbledore didn't know. And now, judging by the conversation she'd heard the night of Slughorn's Christmas party, Snape knew it as well. They question remained—who was the intended target?

It all had to lead back to what Narcissa had come to ask her about over the summer. She'd said that Draco would fail at something Voldemort had bid him do. She'd pleaded for Sara to help him. And somehow she'd convinced Snape to do the same. Before Christmas, he'd been trying to do just that. Draco had said he was trying to keep Snape out of it, but he already knew. And though he had told Draco the last thing he'd wanted to do was tell Dumbledore, it seemed that he already had.

Sara's head was swimming with all of this information. She was glad to hear the door behind her open and see Fred and George step out.

"Waiting for me?" Fred asked dramatically.

"But of course," she smiled halfheartedly.

"Everything okay?" George asked as they took a seat on either side of her.

"A lot to take in," she sighed, laying her head on George's shoulder.

"I still can't believe this happened," Fred marveled.

"Hopefully not all of us end up owing our lives to Harry," George chuckled.

"You could do worse," Sara shrugged.

"I wonder who could've done it," Fred wondered.

Sara turned to look at George, and an understanding passed between them.

"I missed you so much," George muttered, leaning forward and kissing Sara on her earlobe, lingering there for a moment. She giggled. Fred gagged.

"I'm going back to the shop, Verity really shouldn't be there by herself," he said.

"Ohhhhhhh, Verity," Sara winked.

"It's not like that!" Fred shouted, though he couldn't hide the blush quickly matching his hair.

"Tell her I say hello!" Sara called as Fred rounded the corner.

"What do you know?" George asked quietly.

"I think it was Draco. I'm positive he gave Katie that necklace a few months ago, and I think he's behind this now," she whispered.

"How do you know?"

"I don't, for sure. I wish I could get inside _his _head."

"Sara, you _can _get inside his head," George reminded her.

"I know I can, but that means getting him back into another tutoring session. And if I can do it, and Voldemort—" George cringed "—sees that I was in his head, who knows what they'll do to either of us."

"You could do it, then wipe his memory," he suggested.

"I'd have to be quick, and I still might not wipe it clean. If I even leave a trace—"

"But you won't," he urged.

"But I've hardly ever done a memory charm, what if I—"

"But you won't," he repeated.

"I have to do it when the time is exactly right," she muttered. "If I even try getting him in the same room now, he'll know I know something about this. He'll be skittish enough as it is. And I guess it doesn't help that I told him I detested him and couldn't wait until Voldemort killed his entire family."

"A real way with words, you have," George chided.

"Harry's already suspicious of him, I can't even follow Draco, or he'll see me on that stupid map," she continued, ignoring him. "But if I can't get near him, I can't get inside his head."

"But why not?" George asked after a moment of silence. "Do you have to be looking at him to use Occlumency?"

"I… I'm not sure," she mused. "I've never tried it."

"Try it now," he suggested. "Go around the corner and try to get into my head."

Sara made a face at him, but stood up nonetheless and rounded the corner behind which Fred had just disappeared. She wondered for a moment how she would go about this, whether it was enough to just say the words, or if she needed to think about something concrete.

"Any luck?" he asked.

"I feel silly," she blanched.

"Come on. You've looked into my head before. Remember?"

She smiled. Last year, she had looked into his thoughts after hearing him and Fred whispering. She was in his head to hear them discussing the best form of revenge against Umbridge for forcing Sara to write _"I am not a whore" _into her arm.

"But I was right next to you then, staring at you," she reasoned.

"Then think hard about that moment. Close your eyes and imagine I'm sitting right across from you. And then try it."

She closed her eyes and pictured George before her. They were in Mr. Weasley's shed, and he was holding out her mother's ring. She smiled, found her wand in her pocket, and said _"Legilimens" _while keeping the image of George in her mind.

Suddenly, she was in the shed, watching herself. She felt a feeling of disappointment sink in—this was George's disappointment when he thought she was saying no. She was inside his head. The Sara across from him staring at the ring looked up at her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she muttered, "Your mum's gonna be in hysterics when she hears, isn't she?"

She was back at the school now, around the corner from George.

"Now try and make me forget without looking," he said.

She took her wand from her pocket, keeping her mind focused clearly on George and that memory.

_"Obliviate."_

For a moment, there was silence. Then…

"Any luck?"

"Doing what?" she asked expectantly.

"Using Legilimency on me. You just have to concentrate. You've looked into my head before. Remember?"

Sara smiled and came back around the corner.

"It worked, and I made you forget," she explained, grinning from ear to ear. "It'll take some practice, I was focusing on a memory I knew was there, and an important one at that. If I go into Draco's head, I'll be doing it blind."

"But you can do it!" George exclaimed.

"When the time is right."

For weeks, Sara practiced looking into people's minds and then making them forget. She started on Jason, who initially said no. But when she agreed to flash him after they were done, he was more agreeable. However, after peeking into his thoughts—watching him open his Head Boy letter, and seeing him meet her for the first time—she promptly wiped his memory of their entire conversation. Since he never pressed the topic of her breasts any further, she assumed she had been successful.

Then she started practicing on him from farther away, sitting up in her room and looking in on him while he was in his own room, in the great hall, and even sometimes in classes. After that, she would pick out students during lunch, during class, and even while on duty. She was getting better at her range, looking into their heads from the dungeons while they were in their own common rooms. She would have no trouble getting into Draco's head, even from her own room.

The problem was still avoiding getting caught. Her memory charms were good, but still not good enough. After wiping their memories of her snooping, some of them would still look around, as if knowing that something strange had just happened, though unable to pinpoint what it was. If Draco was even mildly suspicious, she ran the risk of being discovered by Voldemort.

Another problem presented itself at the start of April. In less than two months, the seventh year students would be taking their N.E.W.T.s and Sara had been letting her studying go by the wayside. Keeping up with her daily work, secret lessons with Professor McGonagall, Head Girl duties, and this extra Legilimency practice was taking all of her time. She started spending every night in her common room, the table in the corner littered with parchment and books and food.

Any breaks she took were spent peeking into the brains of random Hogwarts students. It seemed as if she had looked into all of their minds—all, it seemed, but Draco. What she was waiting for now, she wasn't sure. They no long looked around in confusion when she wiped their memories. She had it down to a science, and still she was hesitant. She started to wonder if it wasn't so much a fear of being caught, or a fear of what she might see.

Sara was sitting at dinner on a dreary evening in May when she heard a commotion near the entrance. She looked to see a gaggle of seventh years noisily making their way into the Great Hall. Smack in the center of them was Katie Bell, looking healthy as ever. Sara smiled and stood to greet her, but Harry was there first. She knew that he wanted—to know if Draco had been the one to give Katie the necklace. It seemed that she had little information, judging by his defeated expression. She and her group passed him by and headed for an open spot at the table.

Harry and Sara both spotted Draco at the same time. He stood in the giant entryway to the Great Hall, an almost terrified expression on his face. He turned on his heel and walked away as quickly as he could. Harry followed him. Sara jumped from the table, leaving her bag behind, and sprinted after them. Out in the Entrance Hall, she caught sight of Harry disappearing around a corner to her left. She followed brusquely, trying not to lose him. The sounds of his footsteps echoed off the walls. She ran up a stone set of stairs, nearly colliding with someone as the rounded another corner.

"Miss Roth," Snape drawled lazily. "I thought you were aware of the rule stating there was to be no running in the hallways."

"Draco… He… And Harry… They… Went this way," she huffed, trying to catch her breath.

Snape's snide expression quickly turned to one of concern. Sara didn't know what either Harry or Draco might do when cornered by the other, and she didn't want to find out. She passed Snape and continued down the hallway, searching for any sign of them.

"MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"

The scream ripped through the air just ahead of Sara. She threw the bathroom door open and found Harry kneeling before Draco's body. Blood mingled with the water flooding the floor. She threw herself down next to Harry and placed her hands over his wounds, pouring her healing powers into him. She would see his scars closing beneath his tattered shirt. She was vaguely aware of Snape pulling Harry back and kneeling down next to her.

"That's a lot of blood," she muttered.

"The point of the spell," Snape said curtly. "It is designed to cause the victim to bleed out in under a minute. I could have easily performed the countercurse in seconds."

"And yet, here I am," she retorted.

When his wounds were finally closed enough for her liking, she pulled back and let go of the breath she'd been holding.

"He needs the hospital wing," Snape ordered. "There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if he takes dittany immediately we might even avoid that."

Sara had already pulled him into a standing position, draping his arm over her shoulders and supporting him around the waist.

"I'll take him," she said, already walking him out the door.

It was a short walk from there to the hospital. Madam Pomfrey's voice had never been higher as she questioned Sara—and rightly so, they were both drenched in blood and water. Sara requested a bottle of dittany as she removed the tatters of his shirt.

"Thank you, I can handle it from here," she said to Madam Pomfrey, taking the bottle from her and closing the curtain around them.

She undid the stopper and began dripping the golden potion onto his wounds. The scars cleared almost immediately. The writhing snake on his arm frequently broke her concentration. It almost made her sick to look at.

She heard the hospital door open, and Snape told Madam Pomfrey to return to her office. Sara smiled, knowing how well that would go over. The curtain slid back and Snape entered, shutting it behind him.

"He should be fine," she muttered. "The blood loss has him tired, but he's healed up fine. He might sleep through the night, but she should be awake by the morning."

"You may go," Snape commanded.

"I think I'll stay right here," she corrected.

"There's no need for that."

"I don't care," she glared at him.

He eyed her for a minute, then looked to Draco's uncovered arm, and then back to Sara.

"I was under the impression that you hated Mr. Malfoy," he said.

"So was I," she mumbled.

He seemed to realize that she was not going anywhere, and with one final dark look, he turned and left, slamming the door behind him. Sara heard Madam Pomfrey huff from her office. She got up and grabbed a blanket from the cabinet, locking the door to make sure there were no unwanted visitors. She settled back into her seat, covered up with the blanket, and allowed herself to doze off.

She awoke with a start in the dark hospital. The only noises were Draco's heavy breathing and the large grandfather clock that showed it was past midnight. It took her a moment to realize what had awoken her. She had been dreaming that she had looked into Draco's mind. The instant she said the incantation, Voldemort had appeared before her. She had never truly seen him before, so all she could picture was a snake in human clothes.

She stared at Draco, asleep in his bed. There was no time like the present, she supposed. He was asleep. Even if he somehow remembered her looking into his mind, it could easily be confused for a dream. She reached into her pocket, gripping her wand. Her palms were sweating, and she was suddenly nervous. She gulped down the nervous lump in her throat, closed her eyes, and thought of only one phrase.

_What has Voldemort bid Draco do?_

_"Legilimens,"_ she whispered.

When she opened here eyes, she was in Draco's head. He was on his knees, staring straight at the ground. In his peripherals, he could see his mother and father kneeling on either side of him. Both were looking down as he was.

"Lucius, you have disgraced your family's name," a voice hissed.

Fear coursed through Draco. That voice was enough.

"Forgive me, my lord," Lucius simpered. "The gratitude I have for your forgiveness—"

"You have not been forgiven," the voice hissed. "Something must be done to _earn _my forgiveness."

"And… And what is that, my lord?" Lucius asked meekly.

"Quiet, I have no need for you. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you are still locked up in Azkaban," he growled. "It is Draco who will save your family."

Draco felt his chest tighten. He knew it was his turn to speak, but the words would not come.

"Look at me, boy."

He raised his eyes from the ground as slowly as possible. They passed over robes before landing on the most horrible sight he had ever seen—a sight he could not get used to.

Voldemort's eyes were blood red, with no more than slits for pupils. His nostrils were no more than slits as well. His white face was reminiscent of a skull, the bones clearly visible beneath the paper-thin skin. His lips were just a thin line, the same color as his skin. There wasn't a hair anywhere on his head. He instilled fear in all who looked upon him.

"Yes, my lord?" he croaked, trying to sound less afraid than he was.

"If you are successful, all your family's past discretions will be forgiven," Voldemort promised. "But, should you fail, the consequences will be severe."

Draco nodded, unable to speak.

"Before you complete your sixth year at Hogwarts, you must kill Albus Dumbledore."

Sara felt the air leave her chest as she returned to the hospital. She barely remembered to wipe his memory before leaping from her seat. She flew from the hospital wing and to Dumbeldore's office, shouting the password at the gargoyle. It jumped aside and she took the spiral staircase two steps at a time. She threw the door open and found him looking into his Pensieve. He looked up at her and smiled warily.

"He wants to kill you?" she gasped.

The smile fell from his face.

"I did tell you I wouldn't lie if you asked," he said gravely.

"How are you going to stop him?" she asked.

"I do not plan to."

Sara sunk into a chair, unable to understand.

"Why?" she whispered.

Dumbledore looked down as his shriveled, blackened hand. It had gotten worse since last she'd seen him. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that the infection must have been spreading up his arm and was starting up the side of his neck.

"Miss Roth, I have lived a rather long life. 115 years, to be exact. I do not have long left. I trust you know that Draco Malfoy does not just want to kill me on a whim," he said, sitting down in the chair next to her.

"Voldemort has bid him to do it," she replied. "If he's successful, his family's previous crimes will be forgiven."

"And if he fails, I'm sure he will be punished severely," Dumbledore added. "He is a boy who has made all the wrong choices. And I am willing to give what is left of my short life so he may live a long one."

"And…" Sara was still piecing everything she knew together in her mind. "And if he can't do it… Then you want Professor Snape to finish the job?"

"Professor Snape long ago agreed that he would do whatever it took to protect the students of this school. I believe this qualifies."

"But, sir…" she said, her voice cracking.

"Now, Miss Roth, don't cry over me," he smiled, his eyes full of that familiar twinkle. "Save your tears for the things that matter."

"Do you truly believe you don't matter, sir?" she asked, tears threatening to spill over. "You're the greatest headmaster this school has ever had."

"You're too kind," he shook his head. "Perhaps when the time comes, I'll let you be with me. I do believe I'd enjoy having you there for the end."

"I… I'd like that sir," she sniffed.

"But do not dwell on it, my dear. I do not fear death."

"Sir, why am I allowed to know these things?" she asked, swiping the tears away. "I pose more of a threat knowing all of this. The more people who know, the more likely Voldemort is to find out. Why not wipe my memory of this now?"

"I believe that your mind is impenetrable. I pride myself on my Legilimency skills, and your mind is like a concrete wall. I have to believe it will be the same if Voldemort ever peers inside," he explained. "It is important to remember, though, that the minds of others are not nearly as secure as yours. You are privy to this information, as long as it remains with you and no one else."

"Yes, sir," she vowed.

She returned to the Head common room well after 2 am, ignoring the large pile of work she'd left out and instead retiring to her room. The bag she'd left in the Great Hall was on her desk, next to her George journal. She sat down and opened it up, reaching for a quill and ink. She wanted so badly to tell him everything she knew—she told him everything. But the thought of Voldemort taking George, probing his mind, and finding he knew of Dumbledore's inpending death stopped her. So instead, she wrote, _"I miss you so much. I love you."_

She didn't sleep that night.


	41. Dumbledore

For the next three weeks, every moment not in class or sleeping was spent with her face in a book. Part of it was frantic studying, but the other part was trying to forget about Dumbledore's impending death. She had been right: knowing was worse than anything she could have imagined. All the charms and defensive spells and potions in the world couldn't truly make her forget.

The second week in June, the seventh years took their N.E.W.T.s. Sara wholeheartedly believed she would fail her Potions practical, but the examiner's wink at the end made her feel better. Every other test went well, especially Defense Against the Dark Arts. The man administrating the test leapt for joy when he couldn't penetrate her mind—something she guessed didn't happen often.

When she walked out of her Herbology test, every other student was cheering. Most were planning to spend the rest of their days outside soaking up the sun and lounging about. A few were talking about the graduation ceremony and what they were going to do after they left.

Sara, however, was miserable. There was nothing left to distract her from what was to come. She couldn't sit out and enjoy the sun, laughing and joking with the other students, not with this knowledge so heavy on her heart. She wished she would have been able to tell George, though she understood why she couldn't.

George was the only light at the end of this dark tunnel. After graduation, she and George didn't have to spend another day apart if they didn't want to. They would live in the shop together and get married and have babies and live happily ever after. She held onto that. She had to.

The next week, Sara took to prowling the halls. It was better than sitting outside where Dumbledore was the only thing on her brain. Inside, she could at least find small things to break up the dread, like scolding the students who were skipping classes and watching Peeves wreak havoc. On Friday afternoon after lunch, she went up to the astronomy tower and back down again. As she made her way through the seventh floor corridor, she ran into a familiar face. Since he'd been released from the hospital, Draco had done everything in his power to be by himself, away from the other students. He had apparently started skipping classes as well. Sara knew he was supposed to be in Herbology, and yet here he was, this time completely alone.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked before she could stop herself.

He jumped nearly a foot in the air, whipping his head to look at her. She could tell he wanted to run, to jump right out of his skin.

"W-why am I doing what?" he asked.

"It doesn't have to be this way," she said, almost pleading with him.

His eyes were full of confusion, and something else too—pleading.

"Yes it does," he murmured.

"Let me help you," she begged.

"No one can help me!" he cried. "I have to do this!"

She approached him slowly, and he shrank beneath her gaze. Though he was even taller than she remembered, he somehow felt smaller. When she was in front of him, she raised a hand and touched his cheek. At first, he flinched.

"I'm sorry I said I despised you," she whispered. "You've made terrible choices, and I hope you can still make it out alive."

And she left him standing there, a scared and confused child who wanted desperately to call her back.

She continued her rounds, taking each floor one at a time, ending as she always did in the dungeons. They were always eerily quiet, her walks down here only occasionally interrupted by a student heading to the Slytherin common room or a ghost making its way from one room to another.

The sound of glass shattering came as quite a shock. It shattered against stone somewhere nearby. It happened again and again, and it seemed to go on for hours. When it finally stopped, Sara realized she was crouched down, her head between her knees and her hands covering her ears. It felt like being in the Hall of Prophecies once more.

"What are you doing?"

She looked up and saw that the door in front of her had opened, and Snape looked down at her.

"I… Nothing," she said, standing back up.

She caught sight of the room behind him and gasped. It seemed every glass container in his office had been thrown at the wall behind his desk. The floor was littered with glass shards and every strange oddity from dried newts to seaweed to goat hearts. It hadn't been an accident. The way Draco had been acting, and now this…

"It's tonight, isn't it?" she asked.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he grumbled, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You can't let him be the one to do it," Sara pleaded. "He'd never be able to live with himself."

"Miss Roth, you are spouting nonsense."

"He thinks no one can help him, but Dumbledore knows you can. You have to be the one. Professor, you just have to!"

She heard her voice echoing off the walls and realized that she had been shouting. Snape looked taken aback. Evidently Dumbledore hadn't told him that she knew.

"He will not be the one to finish the job," Snape growled.

"Good," she nodded.

"I'm not sure how much you know," he said. "But it would be in your best interests to leave it alone."

"I've never been one to look out for my own best interests," she corrected.

She turned and left him standing in the hallway, unsure of where to go now. Back to her room? Maybe, but she'd never be able to sit still there. Perhaps to the Room of Requirement? No, there was nothing left to be done, she couldn't interfere. Professor Dumbledore's office? Perhaps that was the best option.

She slowly made her way to the stone gargoyle and up the stone steps. Inside, Fawkes was asleep on his perch, but Dumbledore was not there. The sky was slowly darkening, and the few candles that were lit cast a dim glow around the office. The lights, however, were nothing compared to the light coming from the Pensieve in the corner. She approached it slowly and looked inside. The pool of shimmering liquid didn't seem to have a memory in it, but the shelves behind it had no shortage of them.

Something was written on the side of each memory to indicate who or when it was from. There were many labeled _Voldemort_, and even more with the names of the teachers at the school. Quite a few had _Harry _written on them, and there were even some with her own name. Her fingers skimmed over the odd names—Scamander, Aberforth, Flamel. And yet, these all made up only half of the vials. The rest merely had dates or places or nothing at all written on them. The only thing they had in common was the letter _G _written on the bottom of them.

Sara let her fingers linger over one particular memory. Whatever label had been written on it had worn off over years of reliving it. Only the _G _remained. Her curiosity was quickly piqued. She looked around, worried that someone would catch her. But Fawkes remained asleep, and the rest of the school was at dinner. Before she could change her mind, she uncapped the vial, poured it into the basin, and leaned into the memory.

A kitchen materialized around her. A blond-haired young man was sitting on the countertop, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. Another with auburn hair was seated at the table, listening intently. Judging by the décor of the room, this was a very old memory.

"It's time to get serious about this, my friend," the boy on the counter said pointedly. "Enough talk. All we've done is talk! We'll never be able to find any of the Hallows sitting here."

"I can't leave my brother and sister yet, they're not ready," the boy at the table explained.

"They'll never be ready if you don't make them," the blond boy scolded. "You can't coddle them their entire lives."

"It's not that simple, Gellert—"

"It _is _that simple, though," he interrupted. "You can leave them whenever you want! They're only holding you back, Albus!"

It should have occurred to her before now that the boy at the table was Dumbledore—after all, it was his memory. Still, it was quite the shock to see him so young. He was no more than 20, fresh from his years at Hogwarts. As she had once thought during her fourth year, he was extremely handsome in his youth. He was tall and well put together, his brown hair styled perfectly, those unmistakable blue eyes twinkled brighter than ever, and he was dressed impeccably. She had never seen someone care more for themselves. It was in stark contrast to the boy on the counter, whose blond hair flopped nonchalantly in his face; his eyes were dark and lidded, seeming to hide very deep secrets, and his clothes were baggy and dirty.

And yet, the way Dumbledore looked at him… It was a look that Sara recognized, though she could not place from where.

"Perhaps it is time," Albus conceded.

"Exactly!" Gellert exclaimed.

He jumped down from the counter and began poking around in the drawers, searching for something in particular. The expression on Dumbledore's face changed, as if he was deciding whether or not he wanted to say something more.

"Gellert, I want to talk about it before we go," he muttered.

The drawer slammed shut, and Gellert looked up at Dumbledore, a frustrated expression on his face.

"Albus, I told you, we aren't going to talk about this anymore," he growled.

"I'm leaving my family behind for you—"

"This isn't just for me!" Gellert exclaimed. "We'll share this power. This is for us!"

"Yes. Us," Albus murmured.

Gellert found what he was looking for in the second drawer and brought it over to the table. It was a map that he laid out flat.

"You are my dear friend, Albus," Gellert said pointedly.

"And you are mine," Dumbledore replied.

And, before either Sara or Gellert knew what was happening, Albus leaned up and kissed the blond boy full on the mouth. Sara's mouth opened in shock. Gellert, however, was unsurprised by this act. He seemed neither to enjoy it, nor detest it, simply letting Albus kiss him. When he finally pulled back, Gellert took a seat next to him at the table.

"Now that all of that foolishness is over, can we get back to planning?" Gellert sighed.

Dumbledore's face fell, but all the same, he leaned over the map as Gellert began pointing and speaking animatedly once more.

Sara felt her feet touch back down in Dumbledore's office. That must have been Gellert Grindelwald. She remembered learning about him in History of Magic. He was a dark wizard who had been defeated by Dumbledore and was now locked away in Nurmengard. But it wasn't public knowledge that the two had been friends, and she was quite certain that no one knew about this. By the look of the wear on the vial, this was a memory Dumbledore had relived many times.

She now recognized that look on Dumbledore's face as he stared upon Grindelwald. It was the same way that George looked at her—like she was the only person who mattered, the only girl in the room. Dumbledore had loved Grindelwald. Evidently the affection had not been returned. Sara stared at the vial in her hand. Using her wand to place the memory safely back inside, she capped the vial and stuck it in her pocket.

When she turned away from the pensieve, something felt very wrong. Fawkes was awake, his coo soft and sad. The most peculiar thing was that the room had now been cast in a strange, green glow. She approached the window and looked up. A cry escaped her lips. Above the astronomy tower hung the Dark Mark, the snake slithering out of the skull's mouth. Was she too late? Had it already happened? But then, against the light, she saw a figure zooming toward the tower and land inside. The unmistakable flash of silver caused relief to rush through her. With a deep breath, she pinched her eyes shut, closed her hand around her wand, and thought hard about Dumbledore up in the tower.

_"Legilimens,"_ she whispered.

_"Welcome, Miss Roth," _she heard his voice.

When she opened her eyes, she was looking at the astronomy tower.

_"Sir, where have you been?" _she asked.

_"Harry and I were out looking for something," _he explained.

_"Did you find it?"_

_"Indeed. But I am so weak now. If Draco does not come soon, I'm afraid I may not make it," _he said.

"What does it mean?" she suddenly heard Harry's voice ask in the darkness.

Through Dumbledore's eyes, she searched for him in vain. But the tower seemed utterly deserted.

"Go and wake Severus," Dumbledore spoke aloud. "Tell him what has happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else, and do not remove your cloak. I shall wait here."

Harry must have been hidden under some sort of invisibility cloak. He tried to argue, but Professor Dumbledore would have none of it. However, before he could get to the door, they heard footsteps thundering up the stairs on the other side. The door burst open. Dumbledore barely had time to think _"Immobulus"_ before he was disarmed, his wand flying over the wall of the tower to the ground below. Harry must be immobilized against the wall near the door, as she was sure he would have made a move otherwise.

"Good evening Draco," Dumbledore said.

Draco stepped through the doorway, looking around suspiciously. That's when his eyes fell upon the two brooms Harry and Dumbledore had used to get to the tower.

"Who else is here?" he asked.

"A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?" Dumbledore queried, trying to make him forget about the brooms.

"No," he glared. "I've got backup. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight."

"Well, well. Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?"

"Yeah. Right under your nose and you never realized," Draco gloated.

"Ingenious," Dumbledore marveled. "Yet… Forgive me… Where are they now? You seem unsupported."

"They met some of your guards. They're having a fight down below. They won't be long… I came on ahead. I… I've got a job to do."

"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy," Dumbledore encouraged him. There was a moment of silence, and then Dumbledore said, "Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

"How do you know?" Draco retorted, his face reddening. "You don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know what I've done!"

"Oh yes, I do," he said. "You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts… So feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it."

"It has been in it!" Draco shouted. "I've been working on it all year, and tonight—"

A shout from below ceased all conversation for a moment. Everyone seemed to be listening for who it was—whether it was friend or foe.

"Somebody is putting up a good fight," Dumbledore mused. "But you were saying… Yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school, which, I admit, I thought impossible… How did you do it?" When he did not speak, Dumbledore continued. "Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone. What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight too. After all, you don't really need help… I have no wand at the moment… I cannot defend myself."

And still, Draco made no move. She realized that Dumbledore was right, Draco was no cold-blooded killer. His wand was clenched in his outstretched hand, his opponent was unarmed. For someone who truly wanted to commit murder, it would have been easy.

"I see," Dumbledore nodded. "You are afraid to act until they join you."

"I'm not afraid!" Draco shouted. "It's you who should be scared!"

"But why? I don't think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe… So tell me, while we wait for your friends… How did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it."

Sara realized that it didn't truly matter to Dumbledore how he had managed to get them inside—in fact, Dumbledore probably already knew, since Snape had been keeping him informed. He was biding time, waiting for someone else to show up, someone else who would kill him. He didn't want Draco to have to live with this.

Draco couldn't help himself. He told Dumbledore about the Vanishing Cabinet. When Dumbledore told him that he had already begun to suspect him, Draco laughed. Dumbledore said he had ordered Snape to keep watch over him, to which Draco argued that Snape was actually working for Voldemort and just wanted the credit for Draco's deeds. They spoke of how Draco had Imperiused Madam Rosmerta to give Katie the necklace and Slughorn the mead. Draco said that he communicated with her using the enchanted coins that Dumbledore's Army had used the year before. Draco said that they put the Dark Mark up to get Dumbledore back to the school faster. Someone was dead downstairs, Draco said.

Bangs and shouts could be heard below, louder than before. The fighting was getting closer, probably on the stairs leading up the tower. Draco looked even more nervous.

"There is little time, one way or another," Dumbledore said. "So let us discuss your options, Draco."

"_My _options! I'm standing here with a wand! I'm about to kill you—"

"My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first discovered me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means."

"I haven't got any options!" Draco shouted. "I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position. Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you. I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you. But now at last we can speak plainly to each other… No harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived… I can help you, Draco."

"No, you can't," Draco cried. "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice."

"He cannot kill you if you are already dead," Dumbledore reasoned. "Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Nobody would be surprised that you had died in your attempt to kill me, but Lord Voldemort probably expects it. Now would the Death Eaters be surprised that we had captures and killed your mother—it is what they would do themselves, after all. Come over to the right side, Draco… you are not a killer…"

"But I got this far, didn't I?" Draco reasoned. "They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here… and you're in my power… I'm the one with the wand… You're at my mercy…"

He sounded almost uncertain, like he didn't truly believe the words himself. It was as if he was only now realizing that the Death Eaters believed he would perish—that he was not truly one of them. To Sara, he had never looked more like a child.

"No, Draco," Dumbledore said calmly. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."

There was no time for Draco to reply, however, as four figures made their way up the stairs and through the door, shoving Draco aside.

"Dumbledore cornered!" a squat, lumpy man laughed. "Dumbledore wandless! Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!"

"Good evening, Amycus," Dumbledore acknowledged him cordially. "And you've brought Alecto too… Charming…"

"Think your little jokes'll help you on your deathbed then?" a squat woman who looked remarkably like her brother threatened.

"Jokes?" Dumbledore queried. "No, no, these are manners."

"Do it!" a third figure barked from near the door.

"Is that you, Fenrir?" asked Dumbledore.

"That's right," he growled. "Pleased to see me Dumbledore?"

"No, I cannot say that I am," he replied, his politeness never fading.

"But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore," Fenrir grinned, his teeth bared, his fangs bloody.

"Am I to take it that you are attacking even without the full moon now? This is most unusual… You have developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be satisfied once a month?"

"That's right," he snarled. "Shocks you that, does it, Dumbledore? Frightens you?"

"Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little," Dumbledore replied. "And, yes, I am a little shocked that Draco here invited you, of all people, into the school where his friends live…"

"I didn't," Draco spoke from the corner. "I didn't know he was going to come—"

"I wouldn't want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore. Not when there are throats to be ripped out… Delicious, delicious… I could do you for afters, Dumbledore."

"No," the fourth man stepped in. "We've got orders. Draco's got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly."

"He's not long for this world, anyway, if you ask me!" the man named Amycus noted. "Look at him! What's happened to you, then, Dumby?"

"Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Amycus," he waved it off. "Old age, in short… One day, perhaps, it will happen to you… if you are lucky…"

"What's that mean, then, what's that mean?" Amycus shouted. "Always the same, weren't yeh, Dumby, talking and doing nothing, nothing. I don't even know why the Dark Lord's bothering to kill yer! Come on, Draco, do it!"

Scuffling and shouting at the bottom of the stairs made the Death Eaters prickle.

"Now, Draco, quickly!" the fourth man shouted.

As the Death Eaters argued amongst themselves, Sara felt Dumbledore's legs going out, and he slipped down the wall toward the floor.

_"Professor Dumbledore!" _she heard herself shout.

_"I'm not going to make it much longer, Miss Roth,"_ Dumbledore said to her, even the voice in his head sounding tired.

_"Sir, you have to hold on," _she pleaded.

_"I will try, my dear," _he conceded.

_"What are we going to do without you!" _she cried.

_"You will defeat Voldemort, I have no doubt. Harry and his friends will find the rest of the Horcruxes, and you will discover the rest of your abilities, and the Order will fight until Voldemort is vanquished."_

_"Sir!" _she exclaimed, suddenly remembering_. "Sir, I traced it all the way back 1772."_

_"That's wonderful, my dear," _he praised. _"And did you discover why you are the way you are?"_

_"Not yet."_

_"You will," _he said. _"And Harry will succeed, and then… But never mind. You must continue to fight. My death must mean something."_

_"It will, sir," _Sara promised. _"He'll never win."_

_"Good girl."_

At that moment, the door burst open once more, and this time Snape appeared, his wand held aloft as he scanned the room.

"We've got a problem, Snape," Amycus grumbled, "the boy doesn't seem able—"

"Severus…"

Dumbledore's voice had been so feeble, it scared Sara. He was pleading with Snape, who looked at him with revulsion. To the Death Eaters, he truly hated Dumbledore. But Sara knew the truth. He did not hate Dumbledore, he hated what Dumbledore was making him do.

"Severus… Please…"

_"Sir, wait!" _Sara exclaimed.

_"Miss Roth, it is time. Do you want to go?"_

Sara wanted to say yes. She wanted to go back to Dumbledore's office, fall into the pensieve, and never leave it. She wanted to Apparate to George and never leave their bed. She wanted to be anywhere but here. But then, she thought of her mother, who had died alone. No one deserved that.

_"I'll be right here, sir. The whole time. With you."_

_"Thank you, Sara. Thank you."_

Snape raised his wand and pointed it at Dumbledore. For a moment, the others fell away. No one else could see the look of understanding that passed between the two. No one but Sara.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

There was nothing she could do. One moment, she was standing inside the astronomy tower, the green light blinding her. The next, she was back in Dumbledore's office, watching him fall toward the earth. Without thinking, she pulled her wand from her pocket and aimed it at him.

_"Aresto Momentum!"_

Dumbledore's body slowed, falling to the ground as if it was sinking through water and landing delicately on the grass below. She wanted to cry, wanted to run to his body and shield it from the eyes of others. But looking around his office, she knew she had a job to do. Anything and everything in the office could be used to incriminate him if it fell into the wrong hands. All his dark detectors, the books and letters and journals, the memories…

She pointed her wand toward the fireplace, and a fire began crackling immediately inside. She grabbed the journals and books off the shelves and threw them into the fire. She pulled everything out of the desk and threw it in there as well. Most of the dark detectors were fine, but the ones fine-tuned to Dumbledore had to go. Finally, she reached the shelves with his memories. The fire burned blue when she added those. Her hand rested for a moment on the pocket where his memory of Grindelwald rested, but she decided eventually to hold on to it. She wasn't sure why, but she felt like this memory was now hers to protect. The rest were dispensable, but this one was precious.

She noticed a picture leaning against the wall. It was a picture of Dumbledore, and he was smiling knowingly at her. She hadn't noticed it there before.

"Is that everything?" she asked the picture.

He nodded, then gestured to the wall above him. She walked over and lifted the picture up, hanging it up next to the painting of Armando Dippet. With one final nod of gratitude, he closed his eyes and fell asleep in his chair.

She turned to survey the room once more, when she noticed Fawkes. He was still on his perch near the window. There were tears cascading from his eyes and onto the ground below. Sara nearly felt her heart breaking. She approached the bird and picked him up, cradling him gently in her arms. Her fingers stroked the top of his head. He looked up at her, his black eyes filled with sorrow a bird should not know. Sara tenderly kissed the top of his head.

"You have to go," she whispered. "No one else can find you. They won't treat you as he did. A beautiful creature like you doesn't belong in a cage."

His eyes showed understanding. She unlatched the window and threw it open. With one last coo, he spread his wings and flew out into the darkness. She watched him soar over the towers and into the sky above. She closed the window and extinguished the fire, removing all evidence that she'd been there. She made her way outside the office and glanced inside once more. With one last look at Dumbledore's portrait, she closed the door and locked it behind her.

Outside the office, the castle was startlingly quiet. Her wand outstretched, she headed down the hall, taking every turn cautiously. She was on the third floor before she finally heard anyone. Footsteps were echoing off the halls. She stood braced, her wand outstretched. She was ready to fight.

It was not Death Eaters who rounded the corner, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, followed by Fleur Delacour.

"Oh, Sara!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

Sara dropped her wand to her side, feeling silly now. Mrs. Weasley hugged her quickly, then broke off and hurried past her. Sara fell in step with Mr. Weasley, who was hurrying behind his wife.

"What's wrong?" Sara asked him.

"Bill was attacked by Fenrir Greyback," he explained, his voice strained. "Minerva sent us a Patronus."

"Maybe I can help him, if he isn't…" she broke off, afraid to even speak the words.

They hurried through the halls in silence now, climbing stairs and winding through the corridors. At last, they threw the doors to the hospital open and they bustled inside.

"Molly—Arthur—" Professor McGonagall said, leaping from her seat. "I am so sorry—"

"Bill," Mrs. Weasley choked, passing her by and leaning over her son. "Oh, _Bill_!"

The hospital wing was packed with people. Lupin, Tonks, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Hagrid, Madam Pomfrey, and Professor McGonagall were all standing around Bill. Neville and Professor Flitwick were in their own beds, resting.

Sara went around to the other side of the bed. Madam Pomfrey had dabbed a putrid-smelling salve over Bill's wounds. She held her hands over him, careful not to lay them in the goo, trying to heal any of the open wounds. Even with the salve covering them, she could tell they were closing up.

"He'll always have the scars," she explained.

"You said Greyback attacked him?" Mr. Weasley asked Professor McGonagall. "But he hadn't transformed? So what does that mean? What will happen to Bill?

"We don't know yet," she admitted.

"There will probably be some contamination, Arthur," Lupin explained. "It is an odd case, possibly unique… We don't know what his behavior might be like when he awakens…"

"How could this happen?" Mr. Weasley choked.

"Fenrir said he had developed a taste for flesh even when the moon wasn't full," Sara noted. "But he'd been feeding for years. And he's a monster."

"You spoke to him?" Lupin asked, taken aback.

"No," she shook her head, turning to look at Harry, whose eyebrows were furrowed at her.

"He said that when we were in the tower," Harry said slowly.

"I know," she replied.

"How?" he asked.

"I was there."

A moment of silence followed.

"So, it's true," Mr. Weasley whispered. "Is he really…?"

Sara and Harry nodded.

"Where were you?" Harry asked. "I didn't see you."

"I didn't see you either," Sara noted. "Seems we're both quite good at staying hidden."

"Dumbledore's gone," Mr. Weasley murmured.

Mrs. Weasley, however, seemed completely unable to look away from Bill.

"Of course, it doesn't matter how he looks… It's not r-really important… but he was a very handsome little b-boy… always very handsome… and he was g-going to be married!"

"And what do you mean by zat?" Fluer asked loudly. "What do you mean ''e was _going _to be married?'"

"Well—only that—"

"You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?" she asked. "You theenk, because of these bites, he will not love me?"

"No, that's not what I—"

"Because 'e will!" she exclaimed. "It would take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill from loving me!"

"Well, yes, I'm sure," Mrs. Weasley conceded. "But I thought perhaps—given how—how he—"

"You thought I would not weesh to marry him?" Fleur growled. "Or per'aps, you hoped? What do I care how he looks? I am good-looking enough for the both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave! And I shall do zat!"

She grabbed the salve from Mrs. Weasley and began to dab it on Bill's face. After all their fighting over Christmas, Sara was sure this would start some kind of war.

"Our Great-Auntie Muriel," Mrs. Weasley said after a time, "has a very beautiful tiara—goblin-made—which I am sure I could persuade her to lend to you for the wedding. She is very fond of Bill, you know, and it would look lovely with your hair."

"Thank you, I am sure zat will be lovely."

A moment passed, and then the two of them began to weep, falling into one another. The whole room seemed taken aback. This was the last thing any of them expected to happen.

"You see!" Tonks broke in, frowning at Lupin. "She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!"

"It's different," Lupin muttered. "Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely—"

"But I don't care either, I don't care!" she exclaimed, her fingers curling around the front of his robes. "I've told you a million times…"

"And I've told _you _a million times that I'm too old for you, too poor… too dangerous…" he explained, staring at the floor.

"The people who truly love you don't care how much money you have," Sara scolded him. "And they don't care how dangerous you are. And your age… How silly."

"I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus," Mrs. Weasley chided.

"I am not being ridiculous," Lupin retorted. "Tonks deserves somebody young and whole."

"But she wants you," Mr. Weasley smiled. "And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so."

"This is… not the moment to discuss it," Lupin reasoned. "Dumbledore is dead…"

"Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world," Professor McGonagall murmured.

Sara instinctively touched the vial in her pocket. _Love._

Harry and McGonagall left, and Ron and Hermione and Ginny headed back to the Gryffindor common room. Then the talk turned to Snape. Sara felt suddenly sick. No one else could know that Dumbledore had made him do it. They all wondered how they could have dared to trust him, how completely Dumbledore had trusted him, how he had helped get the Death Eaters into the school. Sara had to bite her tongue to keep from jumping in.

"Sara, you said you were there?" Lupin asked suddenly.

"Yes," she replied.

"But, how?" he asked.

"Legilimency. I was inside his head."

"You… you were inside Dumbledore's head when… When he…?" Mr. Weasley queried.

"Until the very end."

No one seemed to know what to say to that. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley turned their attention back to Bill, while Tonks and Lupin continued to bicker. Sara suddenly felt sick. Her stomach was turning over, and the room seemed to be flashing green. She needed to get out of here.

"Mrs. Weasley, are Fred and George at the shop?" she asked.

"No, they're at home, we sent them a Patronus and told them to go there, we have enchantments up to keep Death Eaters out," she explained.

"I… I don't think I can stay here right now," she said softly. "Can I… Can I go?"

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Anything you need. Would you like to go get your trunk in case you don't come back for a few days?"

"Yes… Thank you," she said gratefully.

"I'll go with you," Lupin said, taking her arm.

"I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall," Mr. Weasley called as the double doors closed behind them.

They walked in relative silence through the quiet halls. They still faintly heard Fawkes's dulcet tones outside. Pictures whispered in their frames. The school felt so different now. Every noise made Sara jump. It was no longer an impenetrable fortress. As they approached the door to the Head room, it swung open and let them inside. Jason was nowhere to be found, probably down in the Ravenclaw common room. She and Lupin hurried up the stairs. She threw her things into her trunk, thinking of only one thing—George. After what she'd seen tonight, he was the only thing she truly wanted. She was almost startled when Lupin finally spoke.

"You'll be wanting to join the Order then, I assume?" he asked.

"Is there still an Order to join?" she retorted.

"Evil did not die with Dumbledore, nor did the Order. We will fight until good prevails," he replied.

"Or until there's no one left," she noted, speaking aloud what she'd thought when Dumbledore had said it as well.

"Am I to take it you would rather not join us? Because I know your father and I would be pleased to hear that."

"Of course I want to join you. I'm not afraid," she said, snapping the lid of her trunk shut.

"We all have something to be afraid of," he admitted.

"I'm not afraid to die," she said, turning to look him in the eye. "I'm afraid to lose the people I love."

"You and I both," he nodded.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. He returned the embrace, and Sara noticed that he was skinnier than ever. His loose clothing hid it well.

"Come on then," he said, pulling back and grabbing her trunk.

They made their way down to the Entrance Hall, where Mr. Weasley was waiting for her.

"Tonks is very anxious to talk to you again," Mr. Weasley said to Lupin.

"I'm sure she is," he sighed.

After one last hug, he turned and headed back up the stairs. Mr. Weasley led Sara into a small room just off the Great Hall. It seemed to be an area for teachers, as a few of them were sitting chatting nervously.

"Is it true?" Profesor Vector asked them. "Is he really… Dead?"

Sara tried to answer, but the lump in her throat tightened, and she had to look away. Mr. Weasley seemed to have the same problem, as he too remained silent. Professor Burbage began to cry quietly in her chair, and Professor Sinistra looked as if she might be sick.

Mr. Weasley threw a handful of Floo powder into the small fireplace, and Sara stepped inside, enjoying the cool tongues of flame lapping at her sides.

"Molly and I might not come home tonight, don't worry about us, we'll just be here."

"I'll tell them," she nodded before shouting "The Burrow!" and disappearing from the hearth.

When she stepped out of the fireplace, she was in the sitting room at the Burrow. Fred and George were both there, sitting in armchairs looking bored. George smiled at the sight of her.

"We got a patronus from mum, said to meet at the house, there was something going on at the school. What happened?" Fred asked.

Sara found herself unable to speak—unable to breathe. She fell to her hands and knees, gasping for breath. Then, she vomited, seeing the green light in her head once more.

"What's wrong?" George exclaimed, both boys now on their feet.

"Dumbledore's dead," she gasped. "I… I watched him die."

Neither knew what to say. They both lifted her off the ground and set her in an armchair. Fred cleared away the vomit and George filled a glass with water. They sat down on either side of her. She knew they desperately wanted to know what had happened, but because they loved her they weren't pressing the issue.

"Death Eaters got into the castle," she began, taking deep, steadying breaths. "Voldemort put Draco in charge of killing Dumbledore. He'd been trying all year. The necklace that cursed Katie, the mead that poisoned Ron… They were all attempts to kill Dumbledore without having to do the job himself. Tonight, he cornered Dumbledore in the astronomy tower. I used Legilimency on him and was there with him the whole time. In the end… Draco couldn't do it… So Snape finished the job."

"That snake!" Fred shouted.

"You were right all along," George said. "A Death Eater reformed. That's rubbish. They're never reformed."

Sara once again bit her tongue. She wanted to jump to his defense, to tell them that Dumbledore had asked him to do it. But she couldn't.

"Your mum and dad are still at the castle," she said, changing the subject. "Bill was attacked by Fenrir Greyback. They'll probably stay the night with him."

"Is he okay?" both asked at once.

"They're not sure yet," she explained. "It's not a full moon, so he probably won't change completely. But there might be a few lasting effects. My guess is he'll just take his steaks a little raw now."

"I'm going to check on him," Fred said, standing up and going for his jacket.

"Be careful," Sara warned. "As far as I knew, the Death Eaters were gone, but no one's gone through and secured the castle yet."

"I will," he promised, leaning over and kissing her forehead.

They watched him throw the powder into the fire and step inside, shouting "Hogwarts!" before he disappeared. When he was gone, the only sound was the crackling of the fire. George held Sara's hand, and she clutched his, afraid to let go.

"George, I…" she whispered into the silence.

She wanted to tell him everything—that she knew about Dumbledore's death weeks ago, that he had been dying in the months leading up to it, and that Snape was acting on his orders. But instead, she decided to tell him about something that wouldn't get him killed.

"Before all that happened, I was in Dumbledore's office. And I… I found a memory. It was different from the others, like he had watched it more than the rest."

She pulled it from her pocket and handed it to him. He examined the faded writing on the side of the vial.

"It looks very old," George noted.

"It is. Almost a hundred years old. I think it was his most cherished memory. I threw all the rest into the fire, I didn't want anyone to be able to see them, but I felt like this one was too… Too precious."

"What is it?" he asked, turning it over in his hands.

"It's the only person he was ever in love with. Gellert Grindlewald."

George looked at her with wide eyes. For as much as he didn't pay attention in his lessons, he knew who Grindelwald was—probably from the Chocolate Frog cards he collected as a kid.

"Dumbledore was… In love with him?" he asked.

"The feelings weren't returned, so they stayed friends. But I don't think he ever forgot about him. Even now."

"It's not easy to love someone who you think doesn't love you back," George muttered, looking up at her with a sad smile.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore," Sara sighed. "I'm stuck with you forever."

"That's comforting," he chuckled.

"I'm so tired," she whispered.

"Come on," he said.

They headed up to his and Fred's bedroom, her trunk following behind them. The cot was still in the corner from the last time they had stayed here together. Even with their extended absence, the room still smelled vaguely of gunpowder. It made her feel almost comforted. She turned to George, who was watching her closely, as if she might break.

"George, I'm fine," she said.

"You're crying."

She reached her hand up and felt the tears on her cheeks. This was the first time she had cried since watching Dumbledore die. There had been so much going on, so much to do, she had almost forgotten to mourn. He pulled her into his arms as she began to sob, her fingers curling around his sweater.

"He thought… He thought he didn't matter," she said through her sobs. "He told me to save my tears… For what mattered. How could he believe that?"

"He was the most humble man any of us ever knew," George said pointedly. "Of course he knew he mattered. He just… He doesn't want his death to make people depressed. He wants his life to be celebrated. Your tears aren't a waste. They're just not what he wanted."

"You always know what to say," she looked up at him, her tears subsiding.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, his hand held her face gently, his thumb wiping away her tears. Her hands clenched around the front of his sweater. She hadn't realized how much she missed being near him.

"Promise you'll stay with me forever," she whispered as they lay down together.

"Forever," he promised.

The next few days were a blur. Mr. Weasley came home before his wife, returning to work the very next day. Mrs. Weasley came home only once to collect clothes for herself, Bill, and Fleur. She sent a patronus to tell them that Dumbledore's funeral would be held at the school on Friday.

Fred spent his days back and forth between the school, the Burrow, and the shop, which—despite all the tragedy—was still doing shockingly well. Their mail-in orders were flying in by the hundreds. He and Verity were there until the wee hours of the morning—though it was questionable that they were strictly there working.

George was spending his days at the Burrow, working from there. He was too worried about Sara to leave. She spent most of her days curled up in bed. She pretended to be asleep often—it was easier to close her eyes than to see George watching her with such concern. For as much as she feigned sleep, however, she did very little of it. When she managed to fall into a slumber, she dreamed of the blinding green light and awoke retching.

When she was not in bed, she was in the bathroom. She would sit for an hour under the shower, letting the hot water run over her, her knees curled up to her chest. When she was in bed and here, her thoughts were the same. She wondered what had become of Draco. He had, after all, been unsuccessful in his ultimate mission—he had not been the one to kill Voldemort. Hopefully his death had made Voldemort feel gracious. And what of Snape? He had stepped in at Dumbledore's behest—though the Dark Lord knew nothing of that—and finished the job. Would he be punished for intervening?

On Thursday evening, during a particularly hot shower, she wondered why she was so worried about the two of them. Though he was her cousin, Draco had done much to earn only hatred from her, and indeed for a time he had. But he was only a child. He had been forced to bear the weight of his disgraced family. He had been faced with Lord Voldemort's threats and was not brave enough to defy him. At the age of 16, one would expect no different. He did not deserve to die.

Snape meant even less to her, and yet she worried. She knew he had not wanted to kill Dumbledore, but she was probably the only one. She heard Fred and George whispering about him when she closed her eyes, and she knew that the rest of the Order spoke no differently. But he had done it for Draco, and for Dumbledore. And for some reason, she felt grateful.

Dumbledore's death seemed to hit her in shockwaves. She had dissolved into tears twice, once the night it happened against George's shoulder, and once after waking up in a cold sweat vomiting up her insides. For the third time, she felt her body begin to shake, the tears coming of their own accord. A few moments later, the door burst open. He must have been listening. The curtain was thrown back, and George was there looking down at her. She reached for him, her tears and the shower water blurring her vision. He stepped inside the tub, fully clothed, and sat down behind her, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She leaned against him and sobbed, her breath uneven and her body shaking.

She wasn't sure how long it lasted this time. At some point, George leaned forward and shut the water off, then reached for her towel and draped it over her. When her tears at last subsided, they sat in silence, listening to the drip of the tap and the creaks of the ghoul in the attic.

"There's something else that's troubling you," George finally said.

She did not reply right away. He was right, of course. She knew things no one else did. And, with this knowledge, came a heavy burden.

"I wish I could tell you," she whispered.

She felt him prickle.

"You can tell me anything," he urged.

"I promised Dumbledore. I gave him my word."

"You can't even tell me?"

"I can't tell _anyone_," she iterated. "They were things I never should have found out. Things I wish I could forget now… I promise, George, when the time comes, I'll tell you everything."

"I suppose that'll have to do," he sighed.

He stroked her hair, wondering what dark secrets she held inside her mind. Then he stood up, taking her in his arms and stepping out of the tub. He cradled her against him and carried her back to his bedroom.

The next morning came too soon. Sara had not slept, for fear of the green light. She had instead watched George sleep, listening to the sound of his rhythmic breathing and watching his eyes flutter as he dreamed. When the sun came up and his eyes opened, she tried to smile.

"That's the most pitiful you've ever looked," he said, returning with a sad smile of his own.

"Shut up," she murmured.

He headed into the bathroom to clean himself up, returning only a few minutes later with a towel around his waist.

"You're quite quick when you're in there," Sara noted.

"Not much to wash these days," he said, running his fingers through his short hair.

But Sara knew better. He often enjoyed lengthier showers, but he was afraid to leave her alone for that long under the circumstances.

"Hope I'm not interrupting a tender moment!"

Sara and George started as Fred sauntered into the room, fresh off another night at the shop.

"Been with Verity all night, then?" George asked nonchalantly.

"Lots of orders to fill," Fred waved him off.

There was a beat of silence. Sara and George shared a knowing look.

"We're not going to judge you if you're shagging her, you know," Sara pointed out.

"That's hardly a topic for today," Fred said, grabbing a fresh set of clothes and heading out of the room and down the hall.

"That sounds like a confession to me," George shrugged.

Sara chuckled despite herself. She realized this was the first time she'd laughed in weeks. Fred and George were already making her better.

George and Sara dressed together. George donned his nicest dragon skin jacket with a pair of slacks and a dress shirt, while Sara pulled on a dress of vibrant red trimmed with black lace.

"Making a fashion statement?" he asked, coming up behind her and zipping the dress up.

"Celebrating his life," she corrected.

He stood behind her still, staring at their reflections in the mirror. She put her hair up in a bun, the curls fighting against the tie in which she placed them. A few slipped through and framed her face. He slid his fingers down her arms, and she visibly shivered.

"You look beautiful," he muttered.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He leaned down and let his lips ghost over her neck before pulling back, leaving her side to put on his boots. She slipped into her own shoes and grabbed her handbag from the dresser.

"Are we all ready?" Fred asked from the doorway.

The two nodded, and with a crack, they all disappeared.

Outside the gates of Hogwarts, people were milling about. There were a few that she recognized, but many more that she didn't. They headed through the gates and saw that the carriages were waiting to lead them up to the castle. The giant thestrals were harnessed into them. This time she could see them, black and scaled and strong. She remembered riding them only a year before. She laid her hand on its back. It whinnied in response.

"What are you doing?" George asked, coming up next to her.

"Nothing," she replied.

Together, they boarded a carriage and headed up to the castle together. When they stepped out, they followed the crowd that headed toward the lake. It was a warm summer day, with the sun shining down on the Hogwarts grounds. Near the lake, hundreds of chairs were set up, some of them already occupied. Much of the Order was sitting closer to the front, including the one person she had been waiting to see. She left George's side and drew up to the man seated next to her godfather. He rose at the sight of her.

"Dad," she cried.

He caught her in a mighty hug, nearly lifting her off the ground. She had been waiting too long to see him, to be swept up in his arms. Aside from with George, this was the place she felt the safest.

"Remus told me yeh were there, when he… When Dumbledore… I'm so sorry, darlin'," he said.

"It was my decision," she nodded. "I wanted to be there. I'm glad I was. He didn't have to be alone."

"Yeh give until it hurts," Liam shook his head.

He set her back down as Fred and George approached. He shook each of their hands in turn, and they all took their seats. Lupin and Tonks were seated on the other side of her father; she was gladdened to see that they were holding hands. Moody was next to Tonks, who gave Sara curt nod, and Kingsley Shacklebolt was next to him. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley filed in next, sitting down next to Fred. Bill came down the aisle, held up by Fleur, and they filled up the rest of the row.

Sara watched some of the other attendants fill up the rows. Rita Skeeter sat down a few rows in front of them and pulled a notepad from her purse. An assortment of Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley shop owners were there as well. Firenze the centaur was standing at the end of a row, and the rest of the centaurs were at the edge of the forest nearby, watching with forlorn expressions. It made Sara smile to see even Peeves there, floating near the last row. He was wearing a hat with a spinning propeller on top that moved with the gentle breeze.

Then she caught sight of Dolores Umbridge. Her fingers clenched tight around George's hand, and he followed her eyes. He too bristled at the sight of her. Umbridge was wearing black robes with that horrid pink cardigan and a velvet headband in her large curly hair. She also wore a mock expression of sorrow. She made eye contact with Sara and smiled icily. She had stopped paying attention to where she was walking, however, and ran right into Firenze. With a squeak, she scuttled past him and took a seat as far away as she could find. Sara laughed harshly at that.

When, at last, the staff filed in, everyone in their row noticed Percy in front of the Minister of Magic. Mrs. Weasley began to cry softly. The rest of the staff followed behind them, taking seats in the front row. Every chair was full. Sara turned and saw that there were witches and wizards in the back who had been forced to conjure their own chairs. It was also incredibly difficult to miss the giant standing at the very back, wearing his own suit and tie. Next to him, though considerably smaller than the giant, stood the looming form of Hagrid the gamekeeper. He was crying tears that could fill buckets, and he was firmly holding something against his chest, something wrapped gingerly in purple velvet speckled with gold stars. Sara felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Do you hear that?" George whispered next to her.

She hadn't heard it before, but she did now. A mournful song was drifting through the air. Sara had never heard anything like it. It felt different from a phoenix song, but it was not human either. The dulcet tones were flowing over her like water.

"It's the merpeople," she heard Fred whisper on George's other side.

Sara could not look away from Hagrid and the velvet-wrapped body in his arms. She wanted to believe that it wasn't possible, that there was no way Dumbledore could be under that cloth, that she would see him come strolling down from the castle at any second.

But she had seen it happen. She had seen the spell that took his life. She had watched him fall from the astronomy tower. Whatever she wanted to believe, the truth was that he was dead.

She suddenly felt incredibly sick and had to look away, opting instead to bury her face in George's shoulder. She tried to breathe deeply but found the air catching in her throat. Each gulp of air went down shakier than the last.

"Do you want to go?" George whispered in her ear.

His words took her back very suddenly to the top of the tower, when Dumbledore had asked her the same thing. He was seconds from dying, and he had still been worried about someone else.

"No," she said defiantly, sitting up straight again. "I'm not going anywhere."

The crowd watched Hagrid march slowly down the aisle, holding the body close to him. His sobs had been reduced to silent tears, as though he was determined to keep at least a modicum of composure in honor of Dumbledore. When he reached the front, he placed the body gently onto a white marble table. Then he headed back down the aisle, blowing his nose with the ferocity of a trumpet. Umbridge turned and look disdainfully at him. Sara felt her nostrils flair.

The mermaids' music stopped abruptly, and a grey-haired wizard made his way to the podium in front of the marble table.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was truly a remarkable man. He rose to the ranks of esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts—perhaps the most esteemed in its history. In his 115 years of life, he was known for his generosity and great nobility of spirit. He was a teacher and friend to all who knew him, and his intellectual contribution to the magical world will never be forgotten. His greatness of heart and strength of…" the small man droned on.

Sara stopped listening. His words were empty. This small man had not known Dumbledore. He had not known the true extent of his "nobility of spirit." Dumbledore had spent the past few years of his life protecting Harry from Voldemort. He took blame for the students after they created Dumbledore's Army so as to spare them from the wrath of the corrupt Ministry. He granted pardon to a Death Eater who may not have deserved it and used him to his advantage. He was unfathomably kind, even when it was completely undeserved—Draco being the most notable to come to mind.

But, even with all that to bear in mind, Sara realized that she still knew so little about him. She had known him for 7 years, and only as well as she did now for about a year. Nearly his whole lifetime had gone by before she even knew his name. The only thing she knew about him that she hadn't read in a book was in a vial at the bottom of her bag—and even that was such a small aspect of his life.

There was one thing, though, that everyone knew—he fought to ensure that good would prevail. Since the day Voldemort's name was whispered in fear, Dumbledore had made it his mission to rid the world of his evil. He had assembled the Order of the Phoenix to bring together all those who shared his mission. And now, it was all that remained.

When the ceremony official finished his speech, he sat back down. For a minute, no one moved. Sara closed her eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath, but was startled by the roar that erupted from the front. She opened her eyes to see flames around Dumbledore's body growing higher and higher. When the flames vanished, a white tomb encompassed Dumbledore's body. The centaurs performed their mourning ritual of shooting arrows toward them—though by far missing them—and disappeared into the trees; the merpeople also took their leave and descended into the water. Slowly, people began to stand and greet those around them. Sara's row, however, remained seated.

She looked up at George, and he was startled by the ferocity he now saw in her eyes. She squeezed his hand tightly.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

"We can't give up just because he's gone," she's replied. "We can't let Voldemort win. Dumbledore can't die for nothing."

"He won't win."

She turned to her father, who was looking at her with the same ferocity. Lupin and Tonks on his other side looked very similar. She nodded resolutely.

"What a sight," a voice behind them drawled, breaking up their moment.

They turned to see Rufus Scrimgeour looking down at them, Percy and Dolores Umbridge a few feet behind him. Mrs. Weasley sniffled at the sight of Percy, burying her face in Mr. Weasley's shoulder.

"Something we can help you with, Minister?" Liam asked, trying to mask the sarcasm in his voice.

"Just commenting on how remarkable an affair this was," he said, using the hand not clutching his walking stick to gesture toward the tomb.

"We don't know where Harry is, I'm sure that's why you're here," Lupin muttered.

"As I said," Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes, "just commenting on the ceremony."

He hobbled away from them, Percy and Umbridge following him.

"Run along, Dolores," Sara called after her, unable to contain herself. "The centaurs might catch up with you yet."

Umbridge turned her toady face upon Sara, who raised her scarred arm and waved, smirking. It seemed that she had opened her mouth to retort, but Firenze walked past their row at that very moment, and she hurried on without a word.

"That's my girl," George said, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

"Sara…" her dad scolded her.

"That woman can't do anything to me anymore," Sara glowered at her retreating form. "The miserable old twat."

"Watch your mouth!" her dad chided.

And suddenly, despite the unfortunate circumstances and the somber atmosphere, everyone in the row started to laugh.

They all—including Bill—returned to the Burrow after the ceremony, and Mrs. Weasley set to making a giant dinner. The rest of them set the table by hand and reminisced about the happier memories of Dumbledore.

"I'll never forget when he caught Molly and I sneaking out of the Prefects' bathroom," Mr. Weasley laughed. "He just asked if we'd been having a pleasant evening and strode on, still smiling that knowing smile."

"Dad!" Fred and George exclaimed together.

"You and mum always act like our hijinks are _so terrible_," Fred rebuked.

"I'm disappointed in you two," George shook his head.

"Like Dumbledore never caught us," Sara said quietly to him.

"Yes, but _they _don't know about that," he corrected.

"He caught Emmeline and I a few times as well," Liam noted. "We were in different houses, so it was even more difficult to meet up."

"Never missed a trick, did he?" Lupin smiled sadly.

They were quiet for a while, each person likely reminiscing some more personal memories of Dumbledore. Sara was thinking about their past month of interactions, from Snape to Draco to her healing abilities. She wanted to be able to share these memories, but she knew she couldn't. It was getting easier now to keep them inside.

After dinner, they all sat and talked in the sitting room for hours, drinking and talking and laughing some more. Eventually, Moody, Kingsley, and Liam left. Before he did though, Liam promised he would be more present than he had been recently and kissed Sara on the forehead. Tonks and Lupin headed up to Ginny's room for the night, and Fleur walked Bill up to his room and stayed with him there. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Fred all headed to bed as well, leaving Sara and George in the sitting room watching the fire die. It had become embers before they finally spoke.

"We're going to live through this," Sara said into the darkness.

"I'm certainly not going to let anything happen to you," George declared.

"My big brave fiancé won't let anything happen to me," she smiled.

"I'm serious," he said sternly. "I'll die before I let anything happen to you."

"Well, then that goes for both of us."

She turned and leaned up, kissing him fiercely. He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling it out of the bun. Her hands clenched around his shirt. When they pulled back, he laid his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

"But before we have to do any of that," he said softly, "there's just one thing I want to do."

"And what's that?" Sara asked.

George hesitated for a moment, biting his lip, almost wanting to take it back. But then he felt her hand close over his, and he knew…

"I want to marry you."


	42. Eight

Sara did not answer George that night, nor the next night, nor the night after that. In fact, all talk of their own marriage had been pushed from their minds as the summer began. Along with everyday business for the joke shop, plans were already being laid for Bill and Fleur's wedding, which was in just about a month. Alongside that, the Order was now meeting regularly at the Burrow to discuss how they were going to get Harry here before the enchantments keeping him safely in his aunt and uncle's house disappeared. They all spent many hours around the table with multiple maps of England and Surrey and Little Whinging, each with various drawings decorating them of possible escape routes.

"He has that damned Invisibility Cloak!" Sara found herself exclaiming one night for what felt like the hundredth time. "For as many times as you've all shot it down, no one can actually explain to me why Harry can't just get under the cloak and walk out the front door!"

"It's too risky!" Moody exclaimed. "What's he going to do when he gets out there? Walk the 150 miles to Ottery St. Catchpole?"

"Once he gets out of the house, someone can be waiting even just a mile away for him!" she exclaimed. "We can pick him up in a car, Apparate here with him, take a Portkey…"

"Voldemort knows he's got that cloak," Moody argued. "When the Death Eaters who are assuredly watching the house see the front door open and close with no one there, they'll open fire. The protection will be gone because he's outside the house. It's too risky! I could just as easily Apparate inside and bring him back here."

"But if he's not 17, the Ministry will see that magic was used inside the house," Lupin interjected. "We'll have to keep them informed."

"Umbridge would have a field day with that one," George rolled his eyes.

"Quite right," Kingsley agreed. "I'll talk to the Minister."

The maps were all cleared away, and Mrs. Weasley wiped the table clean of all cups and saucers. Fred and George retreated to a corner to pour over their most recent sales. Sara was just thinking she should go ask Mrs. Weasley if she needed help when a hand clapped her on the shoulder. She turned to see Moody behind her, his magical eye swiveling in its socket.

"It wasn't a bad idea," he noted in an attempt to make her feel better.

"Don't worry, I know," she laughed. "I still think it's better than your idea."

"Why is that?" he asked gruffly.

"Because I don't trust our Ministry," she said quietly.

"Neither do I," Moody growled. "Personally, I don't know how much longer there'll even _be _a Ministry that isn't under Voldemort's control. Runcorn is marching around saying he's going to make sure everyone's genealogy is 'up to snuff.' Plus, it's rumored that Pius Thicknesse is being sought after by Death Eaters. He's heading the Department of Magical Law Enforcement now. Hopefully it's all just talk though."

He stumped away, heading over to the corner where Kingsley and Mr. Weasley were talking in hushed voices, likely something to do with Ministry work. Fred and George still had their heads bent low over their order forms, so she headed into the kitchen where Fleur and Mrs. Weasley were also talking rather animatedly.

"Ah!" Fleur exclaimed. "Just ze person I wanted to see."

"Oh?" Sara quirked an eyebrow.

"Vell, I 'ave a slight problem," she explained. "My uncle vas supposed to play ze piano for ze wedding, but 'e 'as not been 'eard from in weeks."

"Oh no, I'm so sorry," Sara said, knowing what was coming.

"Ve vere not close," Fleur shrugged.

"Well, I was just telling Fleur how you play a bit of piano," Mrs. Weasley went on.

"I don't believe I've touched a piano in at least a year," Sara corrected.

"But it's a bit like riding a broom, isn't it?" she asked. "Not really something you forget."

"Zara," Fleur said, stepping forward and taking Sara's hands in hers. "Eet vould mean so much to me if you vould play at least a song, just so I could walk down ze aisle."

"I don't know," Sara said tentatively.

"To be fair," Fleur reasoned, "eet is not as if zey vould be looking at you."

Sara couldn't help but laugh. If nothing else could be said for Fleur, at least she had no lack of self-confidence.

"I guess I could do one song," Sara conceded.

"Really? Oh, zis is cest magnifique. Whatever song you vould like, as long as eet fits ze theme of weddings. Oh, I'm so excited!" Fleur cried, throwing her arms around Sara.

Sara patted her back reassuringly, worried that she might have just agreed to publicly humiliate herself.

"Will… Will the piano be provided for me?" she asked.

"Eet is being delivered in a few days."

"I'll have to practice."

She left the kitchen, mentally going through the short list of songs she remembered. Suddenly, Tonks was at her side, pulling her in the direction of her godfather.

"We've got something to tell you," Tonks said quietly.

She looked between the two, both of whom were wearing identical shit-eating grins.

"And what's that?" Sara asked, though something told her she knew.

"We're getting married tomorrow," Tonks whispered excitedly.

"Going for the short engagement then!" Sara laughed.

"She wore me down," Lupin conceded.

"Very romantic of you, Remus," Tonks said, flashing him a glare.

"No time like the present, though," Sara noted.

"You never know what day might be your last," Lupin said, taking Tonk's hand.

"Well I'm very happy for you two," Sara smiled.

"Moody and Arthur have both agreed to come along as witnesses, so by the time you wake up, we'll likely be married," Tonks said excitedly.

"That's so wonderful."

After more congratulations and hugs, Sara made her way to a free chair by the fire and sat down. A lot of things had just happened in about 10 minutes. She had learned that it was only a matter of time before there were Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic. She had agreed to sit down at a piano and play while Fleur walked down the aisle in front of a few hundred people. She had learned of yet another wedding that would be taking place in under 24 hours. And that, in turn, had made her remember what George had told her weeks before. She watched him in the corner, sorting through stacks of order forms while Fred took notes.

At this point, her hesitation had nothing to do with not wanting to marry him. She was so madly in love with him, it was the natural next step. But, she also knew that it was the final step. Once she married him, she would be completely attached to him. If she were to lose him then, it would be unbearable. If her father had refrained from marrying her mother, perhaps losing her wouldn't have hurt him so badly.

George looked up and noticed Sara watching him. He smiled broadly, and she returned with one of her own. He had not brought it up again since that night, and she decided now was not the time to do so. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Over the next week, the plan was solidified: the Minister of Magic had agreed to allow Harry to be Apparated to safety—though Kingsley noted that he had refrained from giving a date in case word spread to Voldemort. Mr. Weasley and Kingsely had then gone to Harry's home and told him of the plan, as well as informing his aunt and uncle that they would need to be relocated. He would be moved a few days before his 17th birthday to prevent any kind of close calls.

They were all shocked when, on an overcast day in the middle of July, the front door opened to reveal Hermione. She told them that she'd altered her parents' memories, made them forget all about her, and sent them to Australia to keep them safe. And, though she spoke bravely, Sara could hear the tears in her voice. She joined in on the Order meetings and could often be seen with Ron, talking in hushed voices.

Sara was less excited to hear the piano had arrived, and even less so to hear that it would be kept in the sitting room until the Marquee was set up. This meant that, if she wanted to practice at all, it would be in front of all the Weasleys and Order members who were constant fixtures in the house. She completely ignored its presence for a few days. Then, one night, as she lay in the cot next to George completely unable to sleep, she decided she could ignore it no longer. Quiet as she could, she slipped out of the room and down the stairs. She aimed her wand at the stairs, then at the ceiling, then at the walls and muttered _"Muffliato!" _She hoped it would be enough to prevent anyone upstairs from hearing her.

She sat down at the piano and flexed her fingers. She had not been lying to Mrs. Weasley, it had been more than a year since she had touched a piano. But she had been taking lessons regularly since the age of 4 up until she started at Hogwarts, and a few summers after that. She had been quite good at one point.

She rested her fingers against the keys. It felt so natural, like she had just played yesterday. She felt her fingers suddenly dancing over the keys. "Moonlight Sonata" came very quickly back to her, and after that came a Rachmaninoff piece that she'd forgotten the name of, and then "La Campanella." She found herself suddenly lost in the music. So lost, in fact, that she did not notice someone was listening.

"Blimey…"

Sara leaped nearly a foot in the air, slamming her hands down on the keys. She turned to see Fred looking tired but awestruck a few feet behind her.

"Did you hear it upstairs?" she asked in horror, sure that the whole house would be down here in a moment.

"No, I wanted a snack, so I came down here," he explained, sitting down in one of the chairs. "I didn't hear it at all until the bottom step. Why did you never tell us you could play like that?"

"I'm really not that good," she waved him off.

"You're modest to a fault," Fred corrected her. "That was amazing."

"Whatever," she flushed, turning back to the piano.

"Is there anything you can't do?" he asked, still in awe. "Except, it seems, take a compliment?"

"Oh, shut up."

"Seriously, you're amazing."

"Well, thank you," she said, blushing even more.

She played another song while he listened, completely forgetting that he was hungry. Though Sara was sure she had made mistakes, Fred knew he had never heard anything like it. When she finished the song, he was silent for a moment.

"So, why haven't you said anything to George yet?" he finally asked.

"What?" she turned on the bench to look at him.

"He told you that he wanted to marry you, and you never answered him."

Sara was silent now, opting instead to look at the scuffed leg of the couch. Someone coughed upstairs, and an owl was hooting in the kitchen.

"I just…" she tried. "When we got engaged, I made it a point of saying that I didn't want to get married any time soon. I told him, the closer I get to him, the more I know it'll hurt to lose him. And that doesn't seem to matter to him."

"I think he knows that if anything happened to you, he might regret not proving how much he loved you," Fred explained.

"I've seen this kind of love tear someone apart, Fred," she said exasperatedly. "My mum and dad loved each other more than I've ever seen two people love each other, and he lost her, and he's not the same man he was. He never healed from that."

"You should tell him that, then," Fred chided.

"I told him all this the night we got engaged!" she cried. "He just doesn't understand."

"And maybe he never will," Fred conceded. "You just need to tell him exactly that you want, then."

"But… But I don't know what I want," she said feebly.

"Best get to figuring that out then," he laughed.

Fred stood from his chair and headed into the kitchen, and with a sigh, Sara lifted her silencing enchantment and headed upstairs to bed.

The next day, however, the thought of George's question was once more pushed from her mind. Kingsley, Moody, Tonks, and Mr. Weasley all stumped in, looking very put out. They drew up to the table where everyone else was waiting, and Moody slammed his fist down onto it. Most of the occupants jumped.

"There will have to be a change in our plan to collect Harry," he growled.

A chorus of "Why?" chimed across the table, but further questions were ceased by Moody's murderous glare.

"There's been a bit of a hitch," Mr. Weasley sighed.

"The rumors were true, Thicknesse is working for Voldemort now," Moody snarled.

"How do you know that?" Lupin queried hesitantly.

"He's made it illegal to connect Harry's house to the Floo Network or Apparate or even use a Portkey there," Tonks explained. "Basically, there's no magical way in or out."

"They say it's for Harry's safety," Kingsley added.

"Bullshit!" growled Moody. "It's to keep us from getting Harry out!"

"Bet letting Harry stroll out the front door under his cloak is sounding pretty good about now," Sara mumbled to George, who couldn't help but smile.

"So, if there's no magical way to get him out," Mr. Weasley said, "we'll have to get him out without it."

The next hour was spent discussing possible escape plans. Considering how intelligent most of the people at the table were, they were having a hard time figuring out non-magical ways to get Harry from that house. Sara and Hermione were having difficulties explaining to the rest of them that they wouldn't be able to squeeze him through the television cable tubes. Then they spent about fifteen minutes discussing how to potentially get a Vanishing cabinet into Harry's house.

"Say we can find one, and say there's a way to get it delivered there—which there isn't—" Sara chimed in.

"Why isn't there?" Tonks asked.

"Because any Death Eater could intercept the person delivering it," Moody rumbled. "Plus, where are we going to find a pair of Vanishing Cabinets in the next few days?"

"Malfoy used them last year to get the Death Eaters into the school," Ron pointed out.

"We can't just wander into Borgin and Burkes and borrow it from them, though," Lupin said.

"Alright, then," Sara conceded. "So we can't use magical transportation that can be traced, and non-magical transportation is also out. But there's a lot of magical transportation that _can't _be traced, right?"

"Potter's got a broom," Moody replied. "But he can't just fly off."

"No, he can't," Lupin agreed, though he seemed to be getting an idea. "Not alone."

"What are you suggesting, Remus?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"We get a few people together and all fly off at once, confuse the Death Eaters," Lupin went on. "That way, all eyes aren't on Harry."

"We've got brooms," Fred and George said together.

"Me too," Ron added.

"Wait…" Mrs. Weasley tried weakly.

"We can borrow some from a friend at the Ministry," Tonks chimed in.

"I can't ride a broom, though," Sara pointed out.

"Nor can I," Fleur said.

"I could round up a flying carpet or two," Mundungus said.

"And I could get a couple 'o Thestrals," Hagrid spoke up. "Plus I still got Sirius's motorcycle."

"Hold on a minute," Mrs. Weasley tried again.

"But there's still one problem," Bill pointed out. "Once they look us over, the Death Eater's will know which one is Harry."

"Not if we all look like Harry," Mundungus said.

"What?" Moody gaped at him.

"Polyjuice potion," he said matter-of-factly. "If a bunch of Harry's are going to fly off at once, they'll have less of a chance of finding the right one."

"Half of us should take the potion, then, and the other half will act as escorts," Moody decided. "Us senior Order members will act as protection for the Potter look-alikes."

"I'll volunteer as a look-alike," Ron said, and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Us too," Fred and George said once more, in unison.

"Me too," Sara added.

"I can 'elp," Fleur said.

"Mundungus, you'll be a look-alike as well," Moody ordered.

"What?" he blanched. "Why me?"

"Because I can't trust you," Moody said pointedly.

"That's 8 Harry's then, including the real one," Lupin counted. "With all of us here, though, that's only 7 protectors."

"8, when Charlie gets here tomorrow," Bill pointed out. "I'm sure he'll be raring to help."

"STOP!"

Everyone at the table turned to look at Mrs. Weasley, who had stood from her chair so forcefully it toppled backwards. She slammed both hands down on the table and looked at them all with wide eyes.

"You can't let them all go!" she exclaimed to no one in particular, gesturing toward Sara, Fred, George, Ron, and Hermione.

"Mum, they're all of age," Bill reasoned.

"You'll be lucky if I let _you_ go," she pointed furiously at Bill.

"You can't stop them, Molly," Lupin said. "It's their decision."

"And what about Ginny?" she cried. "She can't stay here alone while we go gallivanting across England!"

"You'll need to stay here with her, make sure everyone gets back safely," Moody said.

"SO THEN YOU EXPECT ME TO SIT HERE WHILE EVERYONE I LOVE TRIES TO GET PAST A SLEW OF DEATH EATERS AND JUST WAIT FOR THEM TO COME HOME?!" she shrieked, her voice reaching its highest decibel yet.

"We can't all fly back here, though," Sara noted. "We'll just be drawing the Death Eaters together again."

"We'll set up safehouses," Moody agreed. "Each pair will fly to a different house and then Apparate here. We'll have to start setting up the defenses there now."

With a shout of rage, Mrs. Weasley stormed from the table and up the stairs, slamming the door right at the top.

"She'll understand," Mr. Weasley sighed, laying his head in his hands.

The next two days were all about planning. Two Thestrals had been placed inside the chicken coop. Mundungus managed to get his hands on a flying carpet, and Tonks got brooms for everyone else from a friend in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. They had managed to find eight people who would allow the Harry look-alikes and their protectors to stop at their homes before taking a Portkey back to the Burrow. Every protection possible was placed upon those houses.

The night before they were to collect Harry, Sara, Fred and George returned to the shop to collect a few things. If they were discovered helping Harry, it probably wouldn't be safe to return there for a while. Sara had been searching through the desk drawers when she found the books.

"_Nice and wet for me?" he asked with a smirk._

"_Stop it," she whined._

"_You want me to stop?" he suggested, pulling his hand away._

"_No!" she cried._

_With a more self-satisfied smirk, he returned to his ministrations of her lower lips. She was drenched. He knew his fingers were enough to bring her to absolute pleasure. But he also knew he could do better._

"_I suppose I could reward my pet," he mumbled._

_His lips trailed down her jaw, her neck, stopping for a moment at her breasts to give a small nip to each perfect nipple. He moved further down, over her stomach, down her navel. His lips moved more slowly now, taking time to painstakingly lavish each thigh with attention. He moved more inward with each kiss, until finally he stopped at her heat._

"_Please," she whined, her cheeks stained a dark red._

"_Embarrassed, pet?" he cooed up at her._

"_Please," she repeated._

"_Anything for you."_

_And, with that, he lowered his head and licked, a painfully slow lick that seemed to last forever. More long, slow licks followed. She threw her head back against the pillow and groaned. Each time his tongue passed over the sensitive nub, she shuddered. After one very slow lick, he seemed to find what he was looking for, as his lips closed around her clit and his tongue began its assault. He… He…_

Sara had to lower the book as her moaning got the better of her. George looked up, not moving his mouth from its current location. He flicked his tongue against the sensitive nub, and she cried out.

They had been reading _Bound to Please _aloud and imitating the sexier moments. Not 10 minutes before, George had been reading aloud while Sara went down on him. The master in the book had been so pleased with his pet that he decided to reward her, and George was more than happy to comply.

George wanted almost desperately to tease her for stopping, but isolating this tiny nub had been hard enough. He didn't want to lose it now. His tongue flicked against it faster now, trying out different patterns from different angles.

"Oh, oh, oh, George," Sara whined, throwing the book to the side and clenching the sheets beneath her.

He knew she was close. Her breathing was shaky and fast, her face contorted and pinched. One of her hands moved from the sheets to his hair, her fingers clenching tight around the orange locks, silently pleading for him not to stop. His ministrations grew faster, faster, until she found she couldn't bear it. With a scream, she released, her entire body shaking. For a few moments, she couldn't form coherent thoughts. George pulled away, kissing softly back up her body until they were face to face.

"Are you pleased, my pet?" he asked.

She leaned up and pressed her lips to his, tasting herself on his tongue. Her fingers curled in his short hair, enjoying the feeling of being close to him. Before now, she had not allowed herself to think about the task ahead of them. But now, as he held her, trailing his lips over her skin, she felt a sudden pang of fear. What if this was the last time he held her? The last time they made love? What if she lost him?

"I'm scared," she whispered into the darkness.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. She always smelled vaguely of vanilla and apples. He remembered that smell even when she was hundreds of miles away. But there was nothing like the real thing.

"I wish you weren't going," he admitted, still nestled against her. "I wish you were staying at the house, safe with my mum and Ginny. But I know I could never stop you from going… I'm scared too."

She clung tighter to him, hoping against hope that she would never have to let him go.

It seemed like she had only just closed her eyes for a moment, but when she opened them again, sunlight was peeking through the curtains. George was still watching her.

"Did you even sleep?" she asked groggily.

"No," he shrugged. "Couldn't have even if I'd tried."

"You'd better not die tonight," she commanded.

"I'm sure luck will be on my side," he noted, leaning in to kiss her.

Sara sat bolt upright in bed.

"Luck."

Sara, Fred, and George returned to the Burrow that night with bags full of things from the apartment. They threw them into the twins' bedroom and returned to the sitting room where the rest of the Order was getting ready.

Mrs. Weasley was bustling about, making sure everyone had enough to eat for dinner and that they were wearing warm enough clothes for the journey. She seemed to be biting her tongue.

"Sara, dear, you're sure you've eaten enough?" Mrs. Weasley asked, coming up to her and stuffing a roll in her hands anyway.

"Yes, ma'am," Sara nodded.

When Mrs. Weasley was out of earshot, Sara turned to face Fred and George.

"We're going to split this between the three of us," she said quietly, pulling something from her pocket.

"What is it?" Fred asked.

She opened her hand and revealed the small vial of the molten gold potion she'd won from Slughorn the year before.

"It's liquid luck," she whispered. "12 hours worth. Split between the three of us, that's four apiece. More than enough time to get there and back alive. I forgot I even had it."

"You should take it all," Fred urged.

"It won't take us 12 hours."

"It's yours," George urged.

"This isn't a time to be proud," Sara hissed. "I'll be drinking a third of this. If the two of you won't take the rest, I'll smash it. I'm not going to lose either of you, do you hear me?"

She removed the cork from the bottle and took a sip, draining a third of it easily. She passed it to George, who took a swig, then to Fred, who did the same, albeit unwillingly.

"Are we all ready then?" Moody grunted.

The room was suddenly eerily silent. Mrs. Weasley began to wring her hands nervously. Sara, however, was starting to feel extremely confident.

"We'll all take cover under Disillusionment Charms," he continued. "When we get there, we'll get inside the house and go from there. Wands out at all times, stay in a tight formation, and if one of us goes down, _do not _go back for them. Come on, then."

They all tapped their wands to their heads and slowly began to blend in with their surroundings. Then they stepped outside and mounted their forms of travel. Sara sat delicately down on the carpet that was floating strangely a few feet above the ground. George looked over at her and winked; evidently the luck was working on him as well.

"Let's go!"

At those words, they all lifted off from the ground, floating easily skyward. Though Sara was usually not a fan of heights, she found herself almost enjoying the scenery. She felt immensely more secure on the carpet than on a broom, and the Felix Felicis was making her brave. She urged it upward, past Lupin and Tonks and Moody, toward Fred and George and Charlie.

"Enjoying yourself?" Fred called.

"Like I never thought I could!" she laughed.

Enjoying the flight made it seem much shorter than it actually was, and before long Moody was flagging them to start their descent. Fred and George turned into matching nosedives, racing each other to the ground. Sara let herself drift more slowly down, stopping when the carpet was about a foot in the air. She stepped lithely off of it next to George, and together they lifted their Disillusionment charms.

They were in the backyard of a pristine-looking house. A small garden and a few neatly trimmed bushes were its only sparse contents, surrounded on three sides by a white picket fence. The house they were facing looked exceptionally ordinary. And staring out at them from one of the windows was Harry Potter.

Hermione and Ron rushed to the house as Harry disappeared from view, and a moment later he had wrenched open the door. They all ducked into the house, greeting Harry with smiles and hugs. He looked rather shocked to see them all there.

Sara, Fred, and George all settled themselves onto the gleaming countertop. Fred opened the drawer next to him and poked around inside.

"Hey!" Sara chided. "This isn't your house!"

"Just seeing what a Muggle kitchen looks like," Fred said, slamming the door shut and raising his hands.

"Not much different from ours," George observed.

"Frighteningly clean," Fred noted.

"Most aren't like this," Sara corrected. "This borders on neurotic."

"All right, all right, we'll have time for a cozy catch up later!" Moody shouted, silencing the room. He dropped the bags he was holding. "As Dedalus probably told you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He's made it an imprisonable offense to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a protection, or Apparate in or out. All done in the name of your protection, to prevent You-Know-Who getting at you. Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother's charm does that already. What he's really done is to stop you getting out of here safely… Second problem: You're underage, which means you've still got the Trace on you."

"I don't—" Harry interjected.

"The Trace, the Trace!" Moody waved impatiently. "The charm that detects magical activity around under-seventeens, the way the Ministry finds out about underage magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get you out of here, Thicknesse is going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters. We can't wait for the Trace to break, because the moment you turn seventeen you'll lose all the protection your mother gave you. In short: Pius Thicknesse thinks he's got you cornered good and proper."

"So what are we going to do?" Harry asked.

"We're going to use the only means of transport left to us, the only ones the Trace can't detect, because we don't need to cast spells to use them: brooms, thestrals, and Hagrid's motorbike. Now, your mother's charm will only break under two conditions: when you come of age, or you no longer call this place home. You and your aunt and uncle are going your separate ways tonight, in the full understanding that you're never going to live together again, correct?" He waited for Harry to nod, then plowed on. "So this time, when you leave, there'll be no going back, and the charm will break the moment you get outside its range. We're choosing to break it early, because the alternative is waiting for You-Know-Who to come and seize you the moment you turn seventeen. The one thing we've got on our side is that You-Know-Who doesn't know we're moving you tonight, We've leaked a fake trail to the Ministry. They think you're not leaving until the thirtieth. However, this is You-Know-Who we're dealing with, so we can't just rely on him getting the date wrong; he's bound to have a couple of Death Eaters patrolling the skies in this general area, just in case. So, we've given a dozen different houses every protection we can throw at them. They all look like they could be the place we're going to hide you, they've all got some connection with the Order: my house, Kingsey's place, Molly's Auntie Muriel's—you get the idea. You'll be going to Tonks's parents. Once you're within the boundaries of the protective enchantments we've put on their house, you'll be able to use a Portkey to the Burrow. Any questions?"

"Er—yes. Maybe they won't know which of the twelve secure houses I'm heading for at first, but won't it be sort of obvious once—" Harry did a count of everyone in the room "—sixteen of us fly off toward Tonks's parents?"

"Ah," Moody nodded. "I forgot to mention the key point. Sixteen of us won't be flying to Tonks's parents. There will be eight Harry Potters moving through the skies tonight, each of them with a companion, each pair heading for a different safe house."

Moody pulled from his cloak a flask of Polyjuice Potion, and Harry's face registered horror and understanding.

"No! No way!" he shouted.

"I told them you'd take it like this," Hermione noted.

"If you think I'm going to let seven people risk their lives—!"

"—because it's the first time for all of us," Ron said sardonically.

"This is different, pretending to be me—"

"Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry," Fred laughed. "Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as a specky, scrawny git forever!"

"You can't do it if I don't cooperate," Harry said, not amused, "you need me to give you some hair."

"Well, that's the plan scupered," George said. "Obviously there's no chance at all of us getting a bit of your hair unless you cooperate."

"Yeah, fifteen of us against one bloke who's not allowed to use magic; we've got no chance," Fred went on.

"Funny, really amusing," Harry frowned.

"If it has to come to force, then it will," Moody snarled. "Everyone here's overage, Potter, and they're all prepared to take the risk. Let's have no more arguments. Time's wearing on. I want a few of your hairs, boy, now."

"But this is mad!" Harry exclaimed. "There's no need—"

"No need!" Moody shouted. "With You-Know-Who out there and half the Ministry on his side? Potter, if we're lucky he'll have swallowed the fake bait and he'll be planning to ambush you on the thirtieth, but he'd be mad not to have a Death Eater or two keeping an eye out, it's what I'd do. They might not be able to get at you or this house while your mother's charm holds, but it's about to break and they know the rough position of the place. Our only chance is to use decoys. Even You-Know-Who cant split himself into eight. So, Potter—some of your hair, if you please… Now!"

Harry reached to the back of his head and yanked a fistful of hair, grimacing in pain. Moody gestured for him to drop it into the flask. It frothed and smoked at the addition of the hair, then turned gold.

"Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please," Moody ordered.

Sara, Fred, and George jumped down from the counter and joined Ron, Hermione, and Fleur in front of the sink. After a brief argument, Mundungus joined them as well. Moody divided the potion into glasses and passed them out to the soon-to-be-Harrys.

"All together, then," Fred said, raising his glass in a mock toast.

They all tossed the glasses back, grimacing at the taste. Sara felt herself suddenly growing upward, her clothes seeming to shrink. She could feel her face changing.

Her hair was turning dark and receding back into her head. When she finally felt herself stop changing, she looked around at the others and took in how strange they all looked.

Hermione and Fleur's clothes were straining against their new bodies just as hers were. The boys, however, were all wearing clothes that looked huge on them. She knew who George was only by the clothes she'd watched him put on and her father's family ring on his hand.

"Those whose clothes are a bit roomy, I've got smaller here," said Moody, tossing the bags at them, "and vice versa. Don't forget the glasses, there's seven pairs in the side pocket. And when you're dressed, there's luggage in the other sack."

They all dressed quickly, grabbed some luggage from the bags, and stood silent before Moody once again.

"Good," Moody nodded at them. "The pairs will be as follows. Mundungus will be traveling with me, by broom—"

"Why'm I with you?" he grunted.

"Because you're the one that needs watching," Moody said brusquely, his magical eye fixed pointedly on him. "Arthur and Fred—"

"I'm George," he grumbled, though Sara knew for a fact it was Fred. "Can't you even tell us apart when we're Harry?"

"Sorry George—"

"I'm only yanking your wand, I'm Fred really—"

"Enough messing around!" Moody growled, though Sara smiled. "The other one—George or Fred or whoever you are—you're with Remus. Sara, you'll be going with Charlie."

Sara headed over to Charlie, who threw an arm around her shoulder. George, who was now standing next to Lupin, rolled his eyes.

"Miss Delacour—"

"I'm taking Fleur on thestral," Bill interrupted Moody. "She's not that fond of brooms."

Fleur made gaga eyes at Bill, though in Harry's body, it looked quite ridiculous.

"Miss Granger with Kingsley, again by thestral—"

"Which leaves you and me, Ron!" Tonks exclaimed, waving erratically and knocking over the mugs.

"An' you're with me, Harry. That all righ'?" asked Hagrid. "We'll be on the bike, brooms an' thestrals can't take me weight, see. Not a lot o' room on the seat with me on it, though, so you'll be in the sidecar."

"That's great," the real Harry nodded.

"We think the Death Eaters will expect you to be on a broom." Moody explained. "Snape's had plenty of time to tell them everything about you he's never mentioned before, so if we do run into any Death Eaters, we're betting they'll choose one of the Potters who look at home on a broomstick. All right then. I make it three minutes until we're supposed to leave. No point locking the back door, it won't keep the Death Eaters out when they come looking… Come on…"

They all headed outside to their respective modes of transport. Sara and Charlie settled themselves next to each other, he on his broom and Sara on her carpet.

"Wish we could've had a dragon or two for tonight," she laughed.

"I have a few who are trained well enough," Charlie said thoughtfully. "But imagine trying to get a dragon into the backyard of a Muggle neighborhood."

"As if this isn't stressful enough," she agreed.

"I'm going to keep you safe for George," Charlie said, suddenly very serious. "No matter what."

Sara immediately regretted not sharing her Felix Felicis with more people.

"Good luck, everyone," Moody called to them. "See you all in about an hour at the Burrow. On the count of three. One… two… THREE!"

The motorcycle roared to life, and they all slowly rose into the air in a tight formation. Higher and higher they rose, the thestrals beating their wings and the motorcycle revving its engine. It was colder than it had been an hour ago, and Sara felt herself shiver. She gripped her wand tightly. The houses were just little squares below them now, each one indistinguishable from another.

And then, very suddenly, Sara was blinded by a flash of green light.

Her brain seemed to go into overdrive, and she fell flat on her stomach, her arms over her head. In that split second during the first flash, she thought she was back in the tower with the dying Dumbledore all over again. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to curl up and ignore the light. She wanted to be far away from here.

"_You must continue to fight."_

The sound of Dumbledore's voice in her head tore Sara from her reverie. There was no time to be afraid. That was another time, and now she had to fight. There were still things she needed to do.

Sara leaped up onto her knees and saw no less than 40 hooded Death Eaters circling around them. They were firing curses off at the Order members, who were completely unprepared for them. Sara noticed one raising his wand toward her, but she was faster. With a flick of her own wand, the Death Eater flew off of his broom and fell straight toward the ground.

"Look out!"

She whipped around and saw another curse flying toward her. This time she swung her arm wide, creating a shield charm so powerful that it knocked the second Death Eater backwards.

A third was on her before she knew it. Beneath his hood, she could see his smirk.

"_Crucio!"_ he screamed.

She knew there was no need to block this one, for as the spell made contact with her, the Death Eater plummeted toward the earth, screaming in agony as he fell.

"Come on!"

She wheeled the carpet around to see Charlie next to her, breathing heavily, his left hand dangling uselessly at his side. Together, they started to soar upward.

"Did you see George?" she cried to him.

"I didn't see anything except those Death Eaters!" he shouted back.

Many of the Death Eaters below were losing their hoods. As she watched, a red headed woman and a black haired man swooped down on a pair on a thestral, but they were both sent flying backwards. She searched frantically for a sign of Lupin or George, but they were nowhere in sight.

"We can't help them, let's go!" Charlie shouted.

They flew off next to one another, followed closely by three Death Eaters. One aimed a curse at them, but they moved easily to avoid it. Charlie threw a spell over his shoulder, and the Death Eaters scattered. More spells sailed past them, very narrowly missing them. Sara threw an _Impedimenta _jinx behind her, hitting one of the Death Eaters.

A shout from above made her whip her head skyward. Charlie was falling, his broom in a tailspin; one of the curses must have hit it. Sara dropped herself flat on the carpet and threw her arm out.

"Grab my hand!" she shouted.

He let go of the broom and reached out, closing his hand around hers. With a mighty tug, she lifted him onto the carpet with her.

The Death Eaters were now just a few yards behind them. Sara knew they could never outfly them. She stood up and faced them, and Charlie did the same. She began to fire every spell she could think of at them, and they fired back with ardor. The spells collided in midair and created sparks. One of the spells hit the second Death Eater, who plummeted to the ground, leaving only one, whose hood had fallen in the fight.

Rodolphus Lestrange.

Sara had thought that seeing Rodolphus again might spark some sort of fear in her heart. But instead, all she felt was a hot surge of hatred. Her wand was moving so fast now, it could barely be seen. She knew she had hit him with a Hurling hex when suddenly his broom began to rock back and forth to try and knock him off.

Sara suddenly felt herself fall to her knees as the carpet began to fly forward. She didn't stop firing spells toward Rodolphus until he was just a speck in the dark night. Then she turned toward Charlie in a rage.

"I had him!" she shouted.

"We needed to get out of there!" he cried. "We were supposed to be halfway to Southampton by now!"

"He killed my mother, and I had him, and you let him go!" she screamed.

"I'm sorry, but I told you I'd keep you alive for George!"

She turned away from him and watched for Death Eaters. There were none in sight, and when no one was seen after 20 minutes, she relaxed a bit.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"If he'd killed my mum, I'd have wanted to kill him too," Charlie said.

They sat in silence for another moment.

"Who's in Southampton?" she asked.

"Augusta Longbottom. We're almost there."

Sara watched the trees coming into view below her, the houses growing larger. She wondered if everyone was alive—if George was alive. The thought made her shiver.

"Here we are."

The carpet stopped just off the ground, and they stepped onto the solid ground. They were standing in front of an old house, much larger than those around it. The door opened, and an old woman in a bathrobe gestured for them to come inside.

"Glad you both made it," she said curtly, ushering for them to go into the sitting room.

When they entered, Neville was sitting on the couch in his pajamas.

"Sara!" he exclaimed.

She hadn't realized that she'd turned back into herself, but now Sara saw her blond hair in her peripheral vision and noticed that her clothes were too big. She pulled off the glasses and stuffed them into the pocket of the now-too-big pants.

"Hey Neville," she said.

"Did… Did everyone make it?" he asked.

"I don't know. I didn't see anything except the Death Eaters we were fighting," she admitted. "I'm sure they're alright though," she added, noting the expression on his face.

"You barely made it," Mrs. Longbottom said, bustling into the room with an old lamp in her hands. "Grab on, or it'll leave without you."

Sara and Charlie both grabbed onto the lamp. About 15 seconds of awkward silence elapsed, during which no one really knew what to say. But before long, the lamp started to glow blue. Sara felt a jerk behind her stomach, and then they disappeared.

They touched back down in the front yard of the Burrow. She sighed with relief at the sight of Harry, Hermione, Kingsley, and Lupin. But something about Lupin's face made her relief falter.

"Sara," he began gravely.

"Where is he?" she asked brusquely.

"He's inside, he got hit by a curse, it—"

But Sara didn't give him time to finish. Her feet were moving of their own free will toward the house. All she could hear inside her head was her own screaming. Inside the house, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were grouped around the couch. Sara flew toward them, and they moved aside to let her see.

George was unconscious, as still as if he were dead. Judging by the amount of blood he'd lost, he was lucky to even be alive. His face and shoulder were stained scarlet from the gaping wound where his ear should have been. Sara fell to her knees and covered the hole with her hands, letting the healing energy pour into his injury. Mrs. Weasley used her wand to staunch the blood. For a few moments, they were silent.

"Sara," Mrs. Weasley said. "I think it's alright now."

But Sara could not stop.

"Sara, it's okay," Ginny tried.

But she was undeterred. A manic look had spread across her face, her hair was wild, she was exhausting herself. And yet she couldn't stop.

"Sara."

She gasped, finally breaking her attention from George's ear to look instead at his face. He was awake now, watching her with a small smile. Her hands cupped the sides of his face as leaned down and kissed him with all her might. She forgot for a moment that he might be sore.

"The potion didn't work," she cried, pulling back and laying her forehead against his. "You got hurt anyway."

"The potion _did_ work," he corrected. "I'm alive because of it. I got hurt because we got attacked. But it didn't hit anything vital. I made it back here alive. I'd consider that pretty lucky."

"I can't fix it," she whispered.

"It feels much better," he assured her.

"I can't make it grow back."

"Will you love me any less without it?" he queried.

"Don't be stupid," her voice broke.

"But that's my specialty," he chuckled.

She kissed him again, lifted his head for a moment to take a seat, then laid it back down in her lap. Mrs. Weasley tended to him while Sara began to stroke his hair.

A great crash from the kitchen broke the reverie that had fallen in the sitting room. Sara noticed Harry and Charlie in there with them for the first time. They must have entered when she was healing George.

"I'll prove who I am, Kingsley, after I've seen my son, now back off if you know what's good for you!" Mr. Weasley shouted from the kitchen.

He burst into the room, Fred right behind him, both of them looking a sweaty mess.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley sobbed. "Oh thank goodness!"

"How is he?" Mr. Weasley asked as he dropped to his knees next to his wife.

Fred had never looked this terrified. He rounded the couch and stood behind it, staring down at George. His mouth opened and closed as he grasped for words, but could find none. Sara took his hand in hers and he grasped it tightly.

"How do you feel, Georgie?" Mrs. Weasley asked him.

"Saintlike," he muttered, raising his hand to feel the side of his head.

"What's wrong with him? Is his mind affected?" Fred asked.

"Saintlike," George said again, looking up at Fred. "You see… I'm holy. _Holey, _Fred, geddit?"

The room's atmosphere lightened perceptibly. Mrs. Weasley burst into tears again. Fred and Sara couldn't help but laugh.

"Pathetic," Fred shook his head. "Pathetic! With the whole wide world of ear-related humor before you, you go for _holey_?"

"Ah, well. You'll be able to tell us apart now, anyway, Mum," George shrugged.

"Hi, Harry—you are Harry, right?" Fred said, seeing him for the first time.

"Yeah, I am," he nodded.

"Well, at least we got you back okay," George conceded. "Why aren't Ron and Bill huddled round my sickbed?"

"They're not back yet, George," Mrs. Weasley said.

The lightness that had previously filled the room evaporated. Sara was sure that Ron and Tonks should have been back, as well as Moody and Mundungus.

"Charlie and I almost missed our Portkey," Sara chimed in.

"That's right," he nodded, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. "They've probably just missed theirs. We were only held up by Death Eaters a short while."

"Did you get attacked? Were you hurt?" George asked, sitting up quickly to look Sara over.

"Georgie, lay back down," Mrs. Weasley urged.

"I'm fine now, mum," he reassured her.

"George, I'm fine," she tried.

"You look exhausted, you used too much energy on me," he chided her.

"I said I'm fine."

He laid a hand against her cheek and looked into her eyes. She leaned into his touch automatically, smiling tenderly. She pushed him back down and ran her fingers through his hair again. Though she had not been hurt physically, George was right. She was rather tired—both from the fight and from healing him.

A few minutes later, Ginny flew into the room to let them know that Ron and Tonks had returned. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went out to greet them, Charlie following close behind.

"He won't say anything, but he's really worried about Bill," Fred said, taking a seat in his vacated chair.

"Are they close?" Sara queried.

"I know they were when they lived here," Fred recounted. "Don't see much of each other now that they work in different countries, but I'd imagine they still are."

"We got really lucky tonight," George said, taking Sara's hand in his own. "My ear was the best thing they probably could've hit."

"Me and dad had so many close calls, but that potion really did work," Fred marveled. "Sometimes I'd just move the broom to the left a little bit because I felt like it was where I needed to go, and then a spell would go sailing by on my right."

"I'm glad you're both alright," Sara admitted.

"You think a few Death Eaters are gonna get rid of us?" Fred said incredulously.

"If Umbridge in all her prowess couldn't take us down, do you really think anyone can?" George asked, looking up at her.

Sara laughed, and the other two joined in. They reminisced about the antics they'd caused during Umbridge's brief reign as Headmistress until the rest of the group finally reentered. Their laughter died away at the looks on their faces.

"What's wrong?" Fred asked. "What's happened? Who's—?"

"Mad-Eye. Dead," Mr. Weasley said gravely.

Fred and George looked horror-stricken. Sara gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth. It seemed impossible. Of all they people she thought might not have made it back to the Burrow, he wasn't even on the list.

"Here," Bill finally said, going over to the cabinet and grabbing some firewhiskey and glasses.

He passed them out to everyone, and they toasted Mad-Eye together. The alcohol burned as it went down Sara's throat. She passed her glass back for a second shot.

"So Mundungus disappeared?" Lupin asked.

Everyone seemed to understand the meaning behind his words. Sara looked to Bill, who was apparently the one who had seen it happen.

"I know what you're thinking, and I wondered that too, on the way back here, because they seemed to be expecting us, didn't they? But Mundungus can't have betrayed us. They didn't know there would be eight Harrys, that confused them the moment we appeared, and in case you've forgotten, it was Mundungus who suggested that little bit of skullduggery. Why wouldn't he have told them the essential point? I think Dung panicked, it's as simple as that. He didn't want to come in the first place, but Mad-Eye made him, and You-Know-Who went straight for them. It was enough to make anyone panic."

"You-Know-Who acted exactly as Mad-Eye expected him to," Tonks nodded. "Mad-Eye said he'd expect the real Harry to be with the toughest, most skilled Aurors. He chased Mad-Eye first, and when Mundungus gave them away, he switched to Kingsley…"

"Yes, and zat eez all very good, but still eet does not explain 'ow zey knew we were moving 'Arry tonight, does eet? Somebody must 'ave been careless. Somebody let slip ze date to an outsider. It is ze only explanation for zem knowing ze date but not ze 'ole plan," Fleur pointed out.

"No," Harry said forcefully. "I mean… if somebody made a mistake, and let something slip, I know they didn't mean to do it. It's not their fault. We've got to trust each other. I trust all of you, I don't think anyone in this room would ever sell me to Voldemort."

"Well said, Harry," Fred raised his glass to him.

"Yeah, 'ear, 'ear," George added.

Sara had not listened to his joke. She was too busy trying to figure out how Voldemort might have known when they were moving Harry but not that there would be eight of them. Even if Mundungus had gone to Voldemort on his own, he would have told him everything. And no one else would have done that. She hoped. So how could they have known?

Lupin and Bill left to collect Mad-Eye's body. Everyone else settled into chairs except Harry, who stood near the fireplace looking torn.

"I've got to go too," he finally said.

"Don't be silly, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said sternly. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't stay here," he said, rubbing his head. "You're all in danger while I'm here. I don't want—"

"But don't be silly!" Mrs. Weasley repeated. "The whole point of tonight was to get you here safely, and thank goodness it worked. And Fleur's agreed to get married here rather than in France, we've arranged everything so that we can all stay together and look after you."

"If Voldemort finds out I'm here—"

"But why should he?" she asked.

"There are a dozen places you might be now, Harry," Mr. Weasley said. "He's got no way of knowing which safe house you're in."

"It's not me I'm worried for!"

"We know that," Mrs. Weasley nodded, "but it would make our efforts tonight seem rather pointless if you left."

"Yer not goin' anywhere," Hagrid said. "Blimey, Harry, after all we wen' through ter get you here!"

"Yeah, what about my bleeding ear?" George asked, leaning up on his elbows

"I know that—"

"Mad-Eye wouldn't want—"

"I KNOW!" Harry shouted.

There was an uncomfortable silence now. Harry winced and covered his face with his hands. Everyone else looked too exhausted to continue arguing with him.

"Where's Hedwig, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley finally asked. "We can put her up with Pigwidgeon and give her something to eat."

Harry didn't answer, instead swallowing the rest of his firewhiskey.

"Wait till it gets out yeh did it again, Harry," Hagrid marveled. "Escaped him, fought him off when he was right on top of yeh!"

"It wasn't me. It was my wand. My wand acted of its own accord."

"But that's impossible, Harry," Hermione intoned. "You mean that you did magic without meaning to; you reacted instinctively."

"No," Harry corrected. "The bike was falling. I couldn't have told you where Voldemort was, but my wand spun in my hand and found him and shot a spell at him, and it wasn't even a spell I recognized. I've never made gold flames appear before."

"Often, when you're in a pressured situation you can produce magic you never dreamed of," Mr. Weasley explained. "Small children often find, before they're trained—"

"It wasn't like that," Harry growled.

After a minute of silence, he mumbled something about needing some fresh air and left the room.

"Ron, Hermione, go out with him," Mrs. Weasley advised. "Make sure he doesn't do anything foolish."

They followed him out, and most of the others flocked into the kitchen. Sara, however, found herself completely unable to look away from George. He was staring into the fireplace where the embers were slowly dying. Her fingers were combing through his hair. When he realized she was watching him, he smiled. But her expression didn't change.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She just shook her head, pushing the hair off of his forehead. Now she used her fingers to study every curve of his face. She loved his strong jaw. His nose had been broken and repaired a few times, leaving a few notches in it. His cheeks were dusted with just enough freckles. His brown eyes were always kind, and now they were searching her face curiously.

"Are you okay?" he asked again.

She nodded, leaning down and kissing him again. It was a slow kiss, still passionate, but not frantic. He reached up and held her face, his fingertips in her hair. Her blond mane fell around them and trapped them in their own world. When she finally had to pull away, she laid her forehead against his once more.

"If I'd lost you today, I don't know how I'd be able to keep living," she admitted.

"Don't say—"

"It's true," she cut him off. "I'm not sure how to live without you anymore. I don't know how I would. But there's one thing that I do know: if I lost you, I'd always regret not showing you how much I loved you."

It took George a few moments to understand what she was driving at.

"Wait," he said, sitting up and looking her in the eyes. "Are you… Am I imagining this, or are you actually saying yes?"

"I want to marry you, George. As soon as we can."

The expression on his face made it all the more worth it to say yes. The loss of his ear was completely forgotten. His smile lit up the room. He leaned forward and kissed her once more, this time with all the passion he could muster. His hands cupped her face more fiercely now. Her fingers curled around the front of his shirt. He pulled back and hugged her to him.

"Come on, then. Let's get to bed. We'll have a big day tomorrow."

The next morning, they were up early. Fred and George padded quietly down the stairs to the kitchen, where Lupin already sat with a copy of the Prophet.

"I sincerely hope she's awake," he said quietly.

"I don't think she slept," Geroge chuckled. "She was up before either of us."

"She's insisting on George not seeing her before," Fred rolled his eyes.

"Do you remember where we're going?" Lupin asked.

"We went there once with dad when we were younger, had to get new birth certificates after we tried to change our middle names to Danger," Fred laughed at the memory.

"We?" George looked at him with a brow quirked.

"You were there," he replied defensively.

"If you'd like to Apparate on ahead, we'll meet you there. Tonks and I were just there a few weeks ago and it was Death-Eater free, so we should be alright."

They Disapparated with a pop, and Lupin listened hard for a moment to make sure the noise hadn't woken anyone upstairs. All seemed quiet, even the ghoul in the attic was sleeping. Lupin knew this wasn't the wisest decision, leaving the house at the wee hours of the morning without letting anyone know beforehand. He was sure Molly would be up by the time they returned. But when Sara had come to him last night, looking so excited and nervous, he knew he could never tell her no.

The creaking on the stairs tore him from his thoughts. He closed up the Prophet and stood from his seat. As Sara came down the stairs, he found himself taken aback at how beautiful she was. She was wearing a cream-colored dress, cinched at the waist and flowing outward to the knees. She had her hair up in a loose bun, with a few flowers from the garden tucked into the back—flowers that perfectly matched those decorating the dress straps. A simple string of pears adorned her neck. But her smile was what was truly radiant.

"You're… You're breathtaking," he stammered.

"Thanks," she blushed.

"George is a very lucky man," he said. "He'd better treat you well."

"He does. I love him. And this is what I want," she said without hesitation.

"Then I suppose we'd better get going. I left a note here for Molly not to worry in case she's up before we return. I'm sure she'll still be upset, but we'll deal with that when we come back."

Sara stepped forward and wrapped Lupin in a hug. He smiled, hugging her back.

"Thank you for coming with me," she whispered.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

She pulled back and swiped at a stray tear. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then they were gone with a crack.

When she opened her eyes, she and Lupin were outside a faded gray building. He extended his arm to her, and she happily took it. He led her into the building, where Fred and George were waiting at the front desk.

George turned and felt his heart stop. One look at Sara, and he knew this was the right decision.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She nodded, unable to control her excited grin. Lupin passed her off to him, and he took her arm. They turned toward the woman at the desk, and she stood up.

"You're here today for a marriage certificate? And you've brought two witnesses along? Excellent. I'll say a few words, you'll sign some forms, I'll take a print of your wand, and you'll be good to go. We are here today to join…"

"George Fabian Weasley and Sara Emmeline Roth," George said.

"...in matrimony. Is there anything you'd like to say to one another before I continue?"

George turned to look at Sara. He was quiet for a moment, simply staring at her. She smiled nervously, wondering if he was going to say anything.

"It's been seven years since I met you. And I knew from that first day that I loved you. Every day since then, I've fallen more in love with you. Sometimes it doesn't seem possible. But I'm more in love with you today than I've ever been, and tomorrow I know I'll love you even more. And I feel so lucky that I get to love you, and I want to make sure that you always know how much I love you."

George took her hand in his and slipped something onto her finger. He pulled his hand away to reveal the most beautiful diamond ring. Sara knew it had belonged to her mother. She felt herself tearing up, but she wanted to make it through her own words first. She took a deep breath and looked into George's eyes.

"You know everything about me. You're the only person in the whole world who knows everything about me, and yet you choose to love me anyway. You might believe that you're the lucky one, but sometimes I just can't believe you chose me. You make me smile, you make me happy, you make me feel like the only girl in the room. And I want you to hold on to my heart forever."

She took his hand and slipped a gold band onto his finger. They turned to look back at the woman conducting the ceremony, who they noticed swiped a tear quickly from her eyes.

"With the authority granted to me by the Supreme Wizard Council, and before these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Sara leaned up and kissed George. He pulled her to him and held her close. It was a slow, passionate kiss, and for a moment they forgot they weren't alone. He pulled back and laid his forehead against hers.

"Hello Mrs. Weasley," he muttered.

"Shut up," she laughed.

"I just need your signatures on these forms, and I'll need to take an imprint of your wands," the officiator said.

After all was said and done and they stepped outside the building, the sun was up.

"We'll go on ahead and ease the transition," Lupin said, nodding at Fred. "Your mother is going to be furious."

"I'm not sure what she'll be more angry about: the fact that we left without telling anyone, that you got married, or that she wasn't there for it."

"Probably all of the above," Lupin sighed.

"But if you didn't promote a little recklessness once in a while, then you wouldn't truly be a marauder, now would you?" Sara said dazedly.

"You've got me there," he chuckled. "Come on, Fred. Let's go meet our maker."

The two disappeared, leaving Sara and George alone on the front steps of the building. They hadn't looked away from one another since signing the papers.

"I love you," George murmured.

"I love you too," Sara replied.

She leaned up and kissed him, and she couldn't help but feel really and truly happy.


End file.
